


The Eye of the Sea (looked towards the sun)

by Fire_Fly464, saquashing



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Light Angst, M/M, Supportive Dream, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, george has secrets, merman au, merman georgenotfound, very light, what do you mean giving your crush shells isn't how you flirt ?, what happens when two adhd mermaid simps become friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:08:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Fly464/pseuds/Fire_Fly464, https://archiveofourown.org/users/saquashing/pseuds/saquashing
Summary: Perhaps, if he had been paying closer attention, he would have noticed the bright flash of blue as it slipped underneath the waves. Maybe he would have noticed the eerie, glowing eye that stared up at him or the wide grin of sharpened canines.But he wasn’t, and so the strange details of the ocean went unnoticed.AKA George has a secret, and Wilbur is oblivious.
Relationships: GeorgeNotFound/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 109
Kudos: 235





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written with the lovely Fire_Fly464, she's an incredible writer, so go check out her other works!  
> Check out both of our Tumblrs, [@FireFly464](https://firefly464.tumblr.com/), and [@SlushiesForCar](https://slushiesforcar.tumblr.com/)

“Thank you for doing this,” George said, sitting down across from Wilbur. His fingers tapped against the smooth wood and he chewed on his bottom lip, eyes flickering between the man in front of him and the gray table they were situated at. The nervous energy that came off of him in waves was so intense, Wilbur could almost imagine the air surrounding him flickering ever so slightly. 

Wilbur chuckled, trying to help soothe the other man's anxiety. “Why are  _ you  _ thanking me? You’re the one that came out here just to help me pull a stupid prank on the viewers”

George shrugged slightly, his shoulders tense and raised. “It was a funny idea. Besides, I got free pizza out of it. Not to mention, I’ve needed to get out of the house for a while.” 

Wilbur nodded, his lips twisting in an understanding smile. He leaned back slightly, sitting up straight, trying to seem at least a little confident. Maybe, if he acted confident and calm, George would start to feel the same. 

“Dream should be facetiming us at any time…” George continued, tapping his foot against the ground as he waited, watching the black screen of his phone intently, “Do you think this is going to work?”

“I don’t know.” Wilbur replied, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand, making eye contact with George, “At least we’re having fun trying, though.” 

George rolled his eyes, though the smile that crept onto his lips revealed his lack of hostility. It was clear that he felt slightly awkward as he sat there across from Wilbur, the air around them filled with tension. However, as the two of them talked, he could feel the tension melt away, bit by bit. 

As his worries slowly faded away, George relished in the content feeling that settled in his gut, warming his shy attitude into one of genuine ease and comfort. Wilbur’s pleasant nonchalance was contagious, and George was sure it was impossible to not feel at ease while in his company. 

After a minute of friendly conversation, George’s phone rang, Dream’s name popping up on the screen. Both George and Wilbur froze for a moment before he reached down to answer the call, a large smile on his face. 

Wilbur considered himself quite the extrovert, he was able to make friends with almost everyone he met with little tension. However, he couldn’t help but feel out of place watching George and Dream interact, albeit over the phone. 

The time at Pizza Hut flew by, George snapping a couple of pictures for Twitter and sending them to Dream, who then had to leave to meet up with his mom.

As George pocketed his phone, Wilbur couldn’t help but notice the way that his eyes darted around, surveying the surrounding area. The tension and anxiety that had slowly melted away over the course of the day were suddenly back. He could almost see the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out what to do and say. 

“Let’s go for a walk,” he said.

George let out a small breath of relief, grateful Wilbur wasn’t noticing his inner turmoil. He nodded, standing and putting his mask back over his mouth, hooking the bands behind his ears. 

Wilbur mirrored his actions, then led George down the street, an awkward silence falling between them.  “So uh, where are we going?” He asked finally. 

Wilbur only shrugged slightly as he continued walking. “Well, you seemed kinda tense,” he stated, “There's a small abandoned beach near my house. I like to go there sometimes and just look at the ocean. It’s relaxing, I figured it might help”

He couldn’t help but notice the way George sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes growing wide. At the mention of the ocean, he seemed to grow even tenser. It confused Wilbur, who felt like the secluded section of the beach by his house was his second home. 

There was something about the salty mist that coated his skin, the gentle rocking of the deep-blue waves, the way the seagulls would perch on a long piece of driftwood. It brought him comfort, no matter how stressed he was. 

However, George’s panicked eyes made it obvious that maybe not everyone loved the sea as much as he did. 

“Are you okay?” Wilbur asked, watching George carefully. The skittish way his eyes jumped from place to place reminded him of a stray cat. In a strange way, it was almost endearing. 

George nodded beside him, pink creeping up his neck. As they walked down the barely marked path down to the beach, his breath picked up and he rubbed at his arm anxiously. He was obviously nervous about going, but followed regardless, “Y-yeah, I’m good.”

“Are you sure? We can go somewhere else if you want.” 

He quickly shook his head, as if he were trying to convince himself, as well as Wilbur. “No, no it’s ok. I just- uh, I don’t like cold water?” 

Wilbur froze as he stepped onto the rocky shoreline, lips breaking out in an unbelieving smile. Small laughs involuntarily rose from his throat, his hand shooting up to cover his mouth. “I-I’m sorry, what?” he asked, trying to keep from laughing in his friend’s face, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means I don’t like going into the ocean. It's too cold, and then you’re just miserable for the rest of the day” 

“Pffft, yeah, alright Gogy, whatever you say,” Wilbur chuckled. Despite what George had said, he couldn’t help but notice the way that the tension seemed to melt away, or how a small smile emerged on his face as he stared out into the vast, blue waves. He looked peaceful.

A wide grin grew on Wilbur’s face as an idea crossed his mind. “So does that mean I can throw you into the ocean, and all you’ll do is complain?” he asked, already kicking off his shoes.

Instantly, the tension and fear that had melted away so seamlessly were suddenly back, as George looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. He took a small step backward, his hands up in front of him. 

“Don’t you dare-” he started, but was quickly cut off as Wilbur shot forward, hooking an arm beneath his legs and another under his back, picking him up and running to the water. He cackled as the man in his arms screamed, keeping his grip tight.

“Wilbur stop! Put me down!” George squealed, hands involuntarily grasping at Wilbur’s shoulders and pushing himself as far as he could into his chest, “This isn’t funny!” 

“Awww, why not? I’ll make sure to keep you safe, don’t you worry, Gogy.” Wilbur smiled, out of breath from his intense laughter. He could feel the cold water splashing against his ankles, his feet already buried in the wet sand.

Wilbur’s breath hitched as he felt George press his face into his neck, his eyelashes tickling his skin.

“Please don’t drop me in the water,” George whispered, his soft voice barely audible over the gentle waves. “Please don’t, oh my god, please don’t drop me in.” 

Wilbur looked down at the man, adoration filling his heart and pumping through his body. George fit perfectly in his arms like he was meant to be there. His head was still adorably nuzzled in his chest, and his small hands held onto his shoulders like a life-line. If it hadn’t been for the way his friend was literally trembling in fear, he very likely would have continued teasing. 

“Hey, it's ok, I’m not going to drop you, I promise.” Wilbur hushed. He felt George relax in his arms, and his eyebrows furrowed, “Are you afraid of water, Gogy?” 

“No, I just don’t like being wet, I told you.” 

“I don’t believe you,” Wilbur replied bluntly, “You’re literally shaking right now, you’re afraid of water.”

George lightly hit his shoulder, and without looking, Wilbur could tell he was pouting, “I’m not afraid of water.” 

Wilbur ignored him, gazing out into the deep blue sea, the sight instantly soothed him, he couldn’t fathom that anyone would ever be scared of it, “How can you be afraid of water?! It’s so relaxing!”

“I’m not afraid!” George huffed, squirming against his chest, “I just don’t like it! Now, are you going to let me down?” 

A small kick of Wilbur’s foot sent a splash of water into the air, cool droplets landing on George’s exposed arm, making him squeal and struggle even more against him. 

“No, Wilbur, stop!” George shrieked, wiping his arm off as quickly as he could, but it was too late. “Shit…” he muttered to himself. “Ok, Wilbur, I seriously need you to put me down, right now”

The sudden sternness in his voice made Wilbur step back slightly in surprise. 

“Uh- Yeah, of course.” Quickly, he stepped back onto the dry shore and put George down. “Are you ok? You know I was just joking, right?” 

The other man wasn’t listening. Instead, he was too busy inspecting the area that had gotten splashed. The skin on his arm was quickly turning a bright red, almost like an angry rash. The rash streaked across his forearm from where he tried to brush the water away, and a quick glance showed that the inside of his palm looked the same. 

“George?” Wilbur asked again, hesitantly reaching out. He frowned as George recoiled slightly, his eyes wide and fearful, “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

George quickly shook his head, rubbing his arm to try to quell the itching sensation in his skin, “I’m fine, Wilbur. Don’t worry about it. Just an allergic reaction” 

Wilbur’s stomach dropped, reaching out again out of instinct, “Allergic reaction? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?” 

George shrugged off his touch, shifting underneath his gaze, “No, no, no, I’m fine. It’s not a big deal, Wilbur.” 

“I have allergy pills in my house-” Wilbur responded, motioning up the path, but George rapidly shook his head. 

“- Oh, no. I’m okay.” He said, “I actually have to get going, but, uh, thank you again for helping us.” 

Wilbur watched, frozen in shock as George practically ran up the path, leaving him standing alone on the rocky shore.

What the fuck was that about? 

He looked back out to sea, and took a deep breath, savoring the refreshing scent of the water. He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He must have done something wrong for George to run off like that. Did he push it too far?

He recognized that they weren’t the closest, and by picking him up he was pushing the bounds of their friendship, but at first, George looked like he was enjoying it. 

He involuntarily chuckled, the sound of George’s laughter seemingly bouncing off the waves with each crash onto the shore. The sound was contagious. 

Not to mention the way he curled into his chest, the ticklish feeling of his eyelashes against Wilbur’s skin, and the way he felt his breath on his chest. It’s no wonder why George was ‘the Minecraft it boy’. 

His eyebrows furrowed as once again storm-clouds rolled in his mind, drowning out the cheerful thoughts with heavy concerns. He should text George, make sure he’s okay. But if he did do something wrong, he’s not going to want to talk to him. 

He bit his lip, pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening discord. 

_ WilburSoot: Hey, Gogy. I’m sorry if I took it too far with the water thing. I did enjoy my time with you today, let me know when you get home safe.  _

After a few minutes of staring at George’s grey discord icon, he slid his phone back into his pocket. He would answer when he wanted to. No need to worry about it.

He eventually made the short trek to his house, relieved to find his flat-mates were out.

A few minutes and a cup of tea later, he crashed on the couch, pulling his phone back out. He knew he had videos to edit, and people to message. But he couldn’t bring himself to lift from the soft cushions. 

He inhaled sharply, seeing George’s name on the screen. When did he turn off his ringer? How did he not notice? 

He stared at the screen for a moment, trying to calm his racing heart, before clicking the icon. 

_ GeorgeNotFound: I’m fine, Wilbur. I promise. I had fun too, maybe we can hang out again soon or stream together. Let me know :] _

Wilbur bit his lip, but it did little to prevent the massive smile from taking his face. 

_ WilburSoot: I’d like that.  _

* * *

The next time Wilbur went down to the beach, it started like any other day. He had gone for his regular walk down to the shore to clear his head, but this time something different caught his eye.

A little further up the beach was a tide pool, filled to the brim with colorful sea life and local plants, surrounded by jaded rocks and shells. It was his favorite place to sit and read or just watch the fish. It was like getting a glimpse into another world, one he wished he could admire for the rest of his days. 

As far as he knew, he was the only person yet to discover this section of beach, along with the tide pool. And he planned on keeping it that way. An influx of people surely meant an influx of trash, disturbance, and most of all a loss of his private resting place. 

So it made it all that much more peculiar when sitting on one of the jaded rocks, was a shell. It would have been normal, considering he was on a beach, but this shell was unlike any he had ever seen before. 

The shell was wrapped, like a conch, but smaller and more round. It was light in color, the faintest hue of a blue coloring the base and raised golden stripes wrapping around it. It was enchanting. 

He picked it up with little hesitation, delicately running his fingers over the smooth shell. His head tilted in wonder, eyes wide in admiration. It was stunning. Ethereal almost. 

Brown eyes scanned the beach, mouth agape, half expecting someone to have left it there. It was so different from the usual shells that were brought in with high-tide, but it wasn’t impossible. 

Still, that deduction didn’t feel right to him. But regardless, he took the shell with him back home, placing it on his nightstand. He would find somewhere better for it tomorrow. 

Perhaps, if he had been paying closer attention, he would have noticed the bright flash of blue as it slipped underneath the waves. Maybe he would have noticed the eerie, glowing eye that stared up at him, or the wide grin of sharpened canines. 

But he wasn’t, and so the strange details of the ocean went unnoticed. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He felt another sharp pain behind his other ear, but this time his gasp didn't go unnoticed. Wilbur’s gaze immediately flicked downwards, his grip tightening. 
> 
> “George?” Wilbur asked, taking a deep breath. 
> 
> George burrowed his head into Wilbur's chest, the warmth of which comforting the itching streaks on his forehead and cheeks, “Hmm?” 
> 
> “You're bleeding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, check out our Tumblrs at FireFly464, and SlushiesForCar and check out our other works!

About a month had passed from the last time they saw each other, Wilbur sat in front of his screen, fingers tapping against his desk and a large smile on his face. 

“Today, chat, we have a special guest.” Wilbur said, loading Minecraft on his screen, “Introduce yourself, special guest.” 

The sound of a discord unmuting echoed through the call, and by how fast the chat was going, he knew everyone was excited to see who it was. 

“Uh- hi, guys.” George greeted awkwardly. He didn’t have his cam on, but Wilbur could picture him at his desk, sitting with his legs on the chair with a crooked smile. 

“Gogy!” Wilbur yelled, keeping up his promise of annoying his flat-mates as much as possible. 

George giggled, logging his character onto Wilbur’s realm, “Wilbur!” 

“So, chat!” Wilbur said, leaning back in his chair and clapping his hands together, “Today we are going to be speedrunning! And by that, I mean George speedruns while I probably drag him down.” 

He heard a small laugh from the other side of the call, making him feel strangely dignified, “Shall we get started, George?” 

George groaned, catching his attention, “I’ve gotten so used to hearing you say Gogy, hearing you call me George is weird.” 

Wilbur laughed, leaning off of his chair with his hand over his mouth, “My apologies, Gogy. I will never slip up again.” 

“I’m not so sure you can do that, Wilbur.” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, moving his character to punch a tree, though he saw in the in-game chat that George had already acquired stone tools. 

George’s character ran up to him, tossing his own set of stone tools and a couple of raw pork chops. How the hell did he get those already? 

“I’m just saying,” George replied, “You’re bound to slip up eventually.” 

He feigned an offended gasp, tossing an oak sapling to George’s character, smiling when he heard his unsatisfied huff, “I swear on my life, Gogy. I will never slip up again.” 

They spent a few minutes carrying on with speedrunning before Wilbur looked back to the chat. 

Variations of ‘DREAM” were being spammed, and Wilbur smirked, searching his name to see if he actually left messages or someone was pretending to be him.

_ DreamWasTaken: WTF  _

_ DreamWasTaken: ONE MONTH AFTER PIZZA HUT AND WILBUR ALREADY STOLE GEORGE _

_ DreamWasTaken: it's a joke chat  _

“It's not a joke, chat,” he teased, gaining George's attention, “Sorry, Dream. I stole Gogy.” 

“Wait, Dreams here?” George asked, and Wilbur found that he hated how excited he sounded. 

Wilbur focused back on the game, his stomach twisting. “Yeah, he's mad because I took you from him.” 

George scoffed, and Wilbur could sense his eye roll. “I’m not an object, I can't be stolen from anyone.” 

“Hear that chat?” Wilbur said with a grin, “Gogy came to me all on his own.” 

He heard the annoyed groan come from his headphones, and he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “You can admit it, it's okay.” 

“I hate you.” 

He looked back on the screen, laughing boisterously. It was obvious he wasn't really trying to speed run, more so he was following George around. 

George already had eyes of ender, and tossed one into the air, leading in the opposite direction before breaking. 

“You're joking,” George complained, letting out a whine. 

They threw the remaining eyes, a couple of which breaking, before ironically ending up on a beach. 

Wilbur stifled a laugh while George crafted and placed a boat, “Are you going to be okay in the water? I don’t want to scare you.” 

Another groan of annoyance came through discord, relieving Wilbur of his worries. He didn't want to push him too far again. 

“I'm not afraid of water, chat. Wilbur is being dramatic.”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow, “Yeah? Then what was that on the beach? Hmm?” 

George ignored him, telling him to get in the boat, but a quick glance to chat and he knew they weren't going to let it go. 

Among them was Dream. Who seemed to share the sentiment. 

_ DreamWasTaken: ???  _

_ DreamWasTaken: George since when are you afraid of water??  _

_ DreamWasTaken: What happened on the beach? What beach?  _

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “Dream, you can hop in the VC, you don't have to keep typing.” 

They didn't have to wait long for Dream to take him up on the offer, joining the call.

“George!” He called out almost instantly, causing Wilbur to jump. 

“Dream!” George replied, giggling. 

Wilbur glared down at his monitor, trying to hide his annoyance from the camera, “Damn, I see how it is.” 

Both other men in the call ignored him, and it wasn't long until Dream spoke again, “George you're not afraid of water, you've gone swimming with Ponk. What happened on the beach?” 

George huffed. “ _ Nothing _ happened. I just didn't want to get cold.” 

“No, he was afraid,” Wilbur interrupted, choosing to ignore the unpleasant feeling settling in his gut. He was friends with Dream, why did he want him to leave so bad? 

“No, I wasn't,” He responded stubbornly, and Wilbur realized that he wasn't paying attention to the game, they were already in the stronghold. If they got lucky they could get just under an hour. 

Wilbur raised his eyebrow, shooting his camera a smirk to entertain his viewers, “So you'll go swimming with me then?” 

“No-” George responded, almost instantly, “No way.”

“Why not? You went with Ponk? Do you not trust me?” Wilbur pouted. As much as he was playing this up for the sake of entertainment, he genuinely wanted to know. 

Dream decided then it was his time to step in, making his voice as soft as possible, causing Wilbur to physically cringe, “Will you go with me, Georgie?” 

“Absolutely not.”

A burst of laughter escaped from him, fed by the relief that he wasn't the only one George wouldn't swim around. 

“Why?” Dream pouted, “Why did you go with Ponk then if you hate it so much.” 

“Because Ponk isn't annoying. Both of  _ you _ are.” 

“Okay, well you’re wrong, but I have to go. I’ll talk to you later,” Dream said, and Wilbur had to stop himself from smiling as the click of someone disconnecting rang through the call. He just didn’t like sharing attention, that’s it.

“So, I was thinking, Gogy.” 

“Oh no.” 

He pouted, jutting his bottom lip out at the camera way further than necessary, “Why are you so mean to me?” 

George giggled, “What were you thinking about?” 

“The next time we hang out, in person,” Wilbur answered, his foot tapping against his soft carpet. 

“Oh, you think there’s going to be a next time?” 

Wilbur pouted again, this time far more genuine, and crossed his arms over his chest, “Yes. There’s going to be a next time. I enjoyed spending time with you.” 

He knew he caught George off guard when he took a moment to answer, and a large part of him hoped he was blushing, “Oh-- uh, I enjoyed it too.” 

“So anyways-” Wilbur continued, ignoring how fast chat was going in the corner of his eye. He was certain this would be clipped and spread everywhere, “I was thinking we could try this cafe in Brighton, I think you’ll really enjoy it.” 

“Vlog part two.” George joked, his voice seemingly tense. He was anxious, Wilbur knew, so he tried to keep it light-hearted. 

“Yeah! We can take pictures and go trending on Twitter.” 

George laughed, and once again Wilbur wished his camera was on. He was so pretty when he laughed, “Only if you pay.” 

Wilbur smiled, relief coursing through his veins. The beach didn’t mess everything up, George wanted to see him again.

“Of course. How does this weekend sound?” 

* * *

George stood under an awning, glaring into the dark sky with contempt. It didn’t occur to him to check the forecast before he set out of his house, and now he was about to pay the price. 

He bit his lip as he checked the time on his phone, his eyebrows furrowing, Wilbur was late. Or maybe he was early, the day had gone by in a blur, he couldn’t remember.

Either way, if it started raining he was screwed. He didn’t have an umbrella on him, he didn’t even have a jacket. It was early fall, he didn’t think he needed it. 

“Gogy!” 

He turned just in time to see Wilbur jogging down the street, a wide smile on his face. It instantly helped to dissolve some of the tension in his shoulders, but the sight of the dark gray storm clouds behind him made it impossible to fully relax. 

“Sorry, I’m late! My flat-mate was being a dick and wanted me to wash the dishes.” Wilbur explained sheepishly, “Have you been waiting long?” 

George shook his head, flinching as he heard the quiet  _ tap _ of a raindrop hitting the tarp above them, “No, not long. We should probably head inside though, huh?” 

“Jeez you really don't like getting wet, do you?” Wilbur laughed, opening the door and standing beside it, nodding for George to go through, “After you.” 

George rolled his eyes, but walked through the door anyway, “You're so annoying.” 

At first glance there was nothing too special about the cafe, leading George to stare up at Wilbur inquisitively. With how excited Wilbur sounded to take him there, it was rather ordinary. 

With furrowed eyebrows, George slowly followed Wilbur to the counter, Wilbur ordering a chai tea and George a hot chocolate. 

“I don't like tea or coffee,” He explained when Wilbur laughed at his choice of drink. 

After the barista gave them their drinks, Wilbur led him to a door. George barely noticed it before, assuming it was for employees only. Before he could ask him about it, Wilbur opened the door, once again holding it open for him. 

George hesitantly stepped through the doorway, half expecting the barista at the counter to yell at them for going somewhere they weren’t supposed to be. This room was far more exciting than the other, and he suddenly knew why Wilbur wanted to take him there.

With wide eyes and a large smile, he stepped further into the room, scanning it carefully. The room was filled with large shelving, nets, chairs, and climbing towers, each one filling him with excitement. He heard a soft meow come from behind him, and his smile widened. 

Behind him and rubbing against the leg of Wilbur’s jeans, was a large black and white cat, purring loudly. George instantly bent down, reaching his hand out halfway to the animal. 

The cat ignored him, but he didn’t mind. He looked up at Wilbur, eyes shining in excitement, “Oh my god, I’ve always wanted to come to a cat cafe.” 

Wilbur returned his smile, adjusting his mask to sip his drink, “I’m glad, because we have to rent out times, and I got us the next thirty minutes.” 

George nodded, standing and looking around the room, admiring the decorations and the furry-occupants. He was surprised at how much he had been enjoying Wilbur’s company, both on and off-screen. 

Before Dream had asked him to go to the pizza hut and fake the meetup, he had only spoken to him a few times. But now that he had been getting to know him better, he found that he looked forward to talking to him and hanging out with him. Wilbur always brought him out of his shell and made him feel comfortable. 

There were many cats, but it seemed like every time he reached out to pet one, they would run from him. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, had he not turned around to see a cut curled in Wilburs lap, fast asleep while he stroked its back. 

Wilbur wasn’t paying attention to him, so he seized the opportunity and snapped a picture, instantly posting it on Twitter, not bothering to caption it. It was far too soft a sight for him not to. 

“Why do they like you, but not me?” He whined, taking the chair next to him and crossing his arms over his chest. Another cat walked straight past him, ignoring him completely, and instead choosing to nudge Wilbur’s foot with the tip of its nose. A wide grin spread across Wilbur’s face, causing George to huff and look away, feigning anger.

“I can’t help it, Gogy. They must sense my charisma and charming personality.” 

“Psh, yeah right. More like you put catnip in your pocket just to spite me” 

Wilbur laughed boisterously, the sound making some of the cats jump away from them. Despite being a little bothered by how little the cats wanted to do with him, George joined in on the laughter. 

“It’s not funny-” George whined, small giggles interrupting him, “I don’t know why they hate me.” 

Wilbur laughed harder, leaning backward, hand flying to cover his mouth out of reflex. 

Several of the other customers were now staring at them, judgemental eyes peering out from behind their masks, but neither paid them any mind. 

“How did you find this place?” George asked, taking a sip of his drink, “I didn’t know Brighton even had a cat cafe.” 

“It’s kept pretty quiet, only the locals know about it.” Wilbur explained, stroking the cat on his lap, “Niki and I found it accidentally while walking around.” 

George didn’t know what came over him, but his mouth started moving without permission, “Oh, so you bring all your dates here, huh?” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he froze, his eyes wide and mouth agape. He felt his chest grow hot and then creep up his neck till it settled in his cheeks. Wilbur was staring at him intently, his expression unreadable. 

“I- wait, uh that’s not what I meant.” George stammered, his face growing hotter by the second. 

Eventually, Wilbur spoke, his voice as low and steady as ever, “This can be a date if you want it to be, Gogy.”

George rolled his eyes, biting the urge to flip him off, “Shut up, you know what I meant.” 

“Awww, are you saying that you didn’t want to go on a date with me after all? I’m crushed, heartbroken” 

“I never said that,” he muttered under his breath, trying to look anywhere  _ but  _ at Wilbur. 

“Hm? What was that Gogy? You said you would be more than happy to make this an official date?” Wilbur teased, shrugging nonchalantly. His care-free attitude usually calmed George down, but right now it was just fanning the flames. 

For a moment, George couldn’t help but consider how much trouble he would be in if he threw one of the cats at Wilbur. He quickly decided against it. “I didn’t- That wasn’t- Ughhhh,” he spluttered, hiding his bright red face in his hands

Wilbur cackled, but he couldn’t help but feel slightly concerned that he was pushing it too far. Normally, he wouldn’t think twice about teasing, but since the day on the beach, he couldn’t help but fear he would scare George away. 

“Don’t worry, I’m just teasing you, Gogs,” Wilbur comforted, putting a hand on his knee. George lifted his head and looked him in the eye. His pupils were wide, and he was biting his lip, cheeks still colored a deep shade of red. 

George nodded slowly, maintaining eye contact. Deep inside his eyes, George almost forgot there were other people in the room with them, speaking a secret language that couldn’t be heard.

Eventually, someone's chair scraped against the floor, ripping them from their gaze. Wilbur cleared his throat, before removing his hand from George’s leg, returning it to the sleeping cat on his lap. George inhaled sharply, looking at the ground. He took a deep breath, willing his heartbeat to steady. 

Breathing heavily, George looked out the window, and his stomach dropped. He had forgotten about the rain. The streets and sidewalks were slick with water, the light grey clouds reminding him of rainy days in London, playing with his school friends after a storm. The rain had let up, and he prayed that it would last. 

“What are you thinking about?” Wilbur asked. George could feel him staring into the back of his head, the thought almost making him shiver. 

He hummed, turning away from the window, “I just wonder if we should leave, we don’t have much time left anyway and the rain has finally let up.” 

Wilbur raised an eyebrow, nodding slightly, “And god forbid we get caught in the rain.” He was still teasing but moved the cat regardless. 

“Why don’t we head back to my place?” Wilbur asked, picking up his drink and waiting for George to do the same, “You can wait for your uber there.” When he noticed George bite his lip and look back out the window he continued, “It’s close, I promise.” 

George finally agreed and followed Wilbur outside of the cafe, carefully watching and avoiding the puddles and dripping signs above him. If Wilbur noticed, he didn’t say anything. They kept walking. 

A comfortable silence overcame them, both perfectly content with each other’s company. George inhaled deeply, basking in the scent of the rain. He loved the moments after a good storm when the world was quiet, and the air was fresh. 

He winced when he felt a droplet hit his wrist, and his eyes shot up towards the sky. Instantly, he could feel his skin begin to prickle uncomfortably, a small red rash already starting to form. He could feel his heartbeat skyrocket with each drop of rain. He cursed under his breath, it was starting again. Another drop hit his shoulder, soaking through his thin shirt. 

“How close are we?” He asked, brown eyes wide. He shoved his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the small piece of lint inside. 

Wilbur hummed, looking down the street and moving with little haste, “About 2 minutes?” 

He inhaled sharply and rubbed his arms. He knew it wouldn't help keep him dry, but he needed to do  _ something _ . How powerless he was right then was not lost on him.

Wilbur noticed the rapid movements, sending George a concerned glance, “Are you cold?” 

“Huh?” George asked, the words falling on deaf ears as more rain started to fall. He chewed the inside of his cheek, knowing he was screwed. 

“Here-” Wilbur replied, grabbing George’s shoulder and stopping. 

George opened his mouth in protest, but the words died on his lips as Wilbur slid off his coat and moved behind him, wrapping the warm fabric over his shoulders. 

“Uh- thank you.” He responded, practically sinking into the large coat. It was far too big on him, the bottom reaching his thighs and the cuffs extending way past his hands, but that made it all the better. 

The warm fabric immediately soothed some of his nerves, the thick fabric warming his cool skin and the comforting scent enveloping him like a hug. 

Now the only thing that he needed to worry about was his head and neck, which just so happened to be the worst parts to get wet. He could already feel the cold rainwater running down the nape of his neck, as his hair was practically already soaked.

He quickened his pace as much as he could, the only thing stopping him from all-out running was that he still needed Wilbur to guide him back. 

He cursed under his breath, eyeing his slow counterpart with annoyance. He assumed with how freakishly long Wilbur’s legs were they would be making better time.

“Could you move any slower?” George asked, glaring at his friend, “I'm shorter than you and I'm still walking faster.” 

Wilbur laughed, making no attempt to speed up, “We're almost there, relax.” 

George huffed indignantly, only to inhale sharply through his teeth when a sudden pain shot from the back of his ear. His ears always hurt the worst. Wilbur didn't seem to notice his small groan of pain, which he was grateful for. 

“Okay, can we  _ please  _ hurry up?” 

“Gogy, I swear if you tell me to hurry up one more time-” Wilbur started, though the smile on his face showed that he meant no harm. 

“What?” George challenged, “What are you gonna do?” 

As soon as George saw the wicked grin grow on Wilburs face he backed up, “Wait-Wait, Wilbur, no.” He shook his head, raising his hands as a makeshift shield. 

Ignoring his pleas, Wilbur ran towards him, smiling wide and mimicking his actions on the beach, hooking his arm under George's knees and back, pulling him to his chest. 

“Wilbur,” George whined, but as he felt raindrops drop from his hair and down his forehead, he gave up any ideas of fighting and pushed his face into Wilbur’s shirt, nuzzling his cheeks against the cloth to dry off as much as he could. 

He felt another sharp pain behind his other ear, but this time his gasp didn't go unnoticed. Wilbur’s gaze immediately flicked downwards, his grip tightening. 

“George?” Wilbur said, taking a deep breath. 

George burrowed his head into Wilbur's chest, the warmth of which comforting the itching streaks on his forehead and cheeks, “Hmm?” 

“You're bleeding.”

It took all of his effort to not reach up and wipe away the warm blood that was starting to pool on the back of his neck and behind his ears. Instead, he simply raised his hands to cover the back of his neck, using his forearms to hide his ears. He knew that he was very likely staining the sleeves of Wilbur’s jacket, and he knew he would come to regret it later, but at that moment he simply didn’t care. 

“It’s fine,” he grumbled, leaning back into Wilbur’s chest, this time with his arms over his ears, “You don’t need to worry about it” 

Wilbur sped up, clearly not believing him. He carried him down the street like he weighed nothing, scoffing at George’s statement. 

George didn’t mind being carried this time, as his thoughts were too preoccupied with how the hell he was going to keep this hidden. Wilbur already saw the blood, and that meant at any minute he would notice everything else. 

“Wilbur I swear, It’s nothing.” He tried again, curling his nose when he noticed warm liquid seeping through the fabric of the coat. Guilt crashed into him like a tsunami as he processed everything that had happened. Not only did he make Wilbur leave the cafe early, but now he was carrying him and George was staining his coat with his blood. 

They finally came to a stop as they reached Wilbur’s house, who opted to awkwardly shift them and grab his keys rather than set George down. Once he figured out how to open the door, he carried him through, kicking it shut behind them. 

Wilbur brought him into a bathroom and gently set him down on the side of his bathtub, before searching the cabinet under his sink for a first aid kit. George still had his arms up over his head, covering his ears and the back of his neck. 

He kneeled by the side of the tub, placing one delicate hand on George’s knee and raising the other to try to move his hand from his ear, which George stubbornly kept in place. 

“Gogy, please let me help.” He whispered softly, stroking his covered wrist. George’s eyes were closed and he was breathing heavy, biting his lip. Wilbur had never seen him like this before, and it worried him.

What worried him the most was that George was quiet, offering no explanation as to what was going on. Wilbur knew he hated getting wet, but he didn’t know it could hurt him. Was that even possible?

“George,” Wilbur said, more firm this time. George raised his head when he heard his real name, but kept his mouth shut. His face was marked with red, the rashes streaking down his cheeks. 

“Can you move your hands, please?” 

George shook his head rapidly, his eyes wide. That’s when Wilbur froze in his spot. On the very outside of George’s left eye, faint black streaks appeared. Had he not been so close, he wouldn’t have noticed. He blinked a few times, it was probably just a trick of the light. That was the only rational explanation. 

He focused back on George’s still covered ears, trying, and failing to get a better look at them. Eventually, he backed away, letting out an exasperated sigh, “Gogy I need to make sure you’re okay, please let me.” 

Wilbur assumed he was getting ignored again, before he felt a small hand touch his wrist, gathering his attention. 

George had moved a hand from one of his ears, just long enough to grab some bandages and bring them back to the side of his head. Wilbur watched, staying still while he moved, smiling in relief.

“If I leave,” Wilbur started, rubbing small circles into George’s leg, “Do you promise you’ll clean them up?” 

When George nodded, Wilbur stood up, shutting the bathroom door behind him. 

As soon as the door clicked shut, Wilbur’s calm demeanor shattered like glass. He fell back against the door, running his hands through his damp hair. What the fuck was that? 

Pushing off of the door, he walked into his bedroom. He wouldn't accomplish anything by standing at the bathroom door, waiting for George to need him. 

He paced in front of his bed, going back and forth between chewing his lip and his thumb. He wanted to know what was going on, but it was clear George didn't want to talk about it.

How much could he try to figure out before he crossed George's boundaries and betrayed his trust? 

Without thinking, he picked up the shell from the beach off of his desk, rubbing his thumb over the grooves like a worry stone. 

He was ripped by his thoughts when he heard the bath running. He immediately placed the shell back on his desk, before going back to the door of the bathroom.

He knocked lightly at the door, waiting for George's acknowledgment before speaking, “Gogs, you alright in there?” 

“Mmhm!” 

He waited a few more moments, in case George decided to say anything else, but when nothing else was heard, he moved away. 

He probably just needed to get warm, Wilbur decided, he did get pretty wet from the storm. 

Looking down at his own clothing, he frowned. He hadn't even noticed how wet  _ he _ had gotten. Clearly, George wasn't the only one who needed to warm up. 

He quickly changed, throwing his damp clothes into the laundry bin in the corner of his room. But looking at his hamper, he realized George didn't have a change of clothes.

Wilbur dug through his closet and dresser, pulling out the smallest items of clothing he had, and set them aside, still knowing they would be far too big on George. 

Stopping to grab a towel, he went back to the door and knocked, “Uh, I have clothes and stuff for whenever you're ready...” He said, hoping he didn't sound as awkward as he felt. 

To his surprise, the door cracked open, “Do you have a hairdryer?” George asked. It didn't sound like him, not exactly. He sounded like he was underwater, almost as if he was using a voice changer. It reminded Wilbur of when he was a child, holding a shell to his ear and listening for the nonexistent waves. 

He shook his head. George probably just got sick from the rain. Yeah, that must have been it. Perhaps Wilbur could make him some tea to help fight any illnesses.

When he realized he hadn't answered, he cleared his throat, “I-I think so, I can go grab it.” 

The door closed, and Wilbur took that as a yes. With furrowed eyebrows, he walked back to his room for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. George had nice hair, sure. But it wasn't long enough to need a hairdryer, and Wilbur knew he didn't style it. 

However, it wasn't the weirdest thing he had brushed off that night, and he let it go. 

He found the hairdryer easily enough and was soon back at the door of the bathroom. 

“George...?” He called out, waiting for the door to open. When it finally did, albeit very slightly, George didn't reach his hand out. Wilbur took the hint and slid it through the crack. 

Then, he noticed something. A vibrant blue glow danced across the reflection of the tiles, reminiscent of light bouncing off of blue sequins. 

Intrigued, he tried to push open the door to get a better look. There was a small gasp from the other side of the door, before it quickly slammed shut, leaving Wilbur standing alone in the hallway. 

Wilbur stood in his kitchen, pouring boiling water from his kettle into two cups. George had left the bathroom and was now curled up on his couch. 

Bringing the tea into the living room, Wilbur froze for a moment, a small smile tugging on his lips. He was right, his clothes were massive on George. 

“Would you like a blanket, gogs?” 

When George nodded, Wilbur sat the tea on the coffee table, grabbing a large throw blanket off of the back of a chair. 

He ignored George's raised eyebrows as he moved closer, draping the blanket over him and leaning in close, tucking the blanket slightly underneath him without a second thought. 

George squirmed under his touch, blood rushing up from his chest and squealing slightly, “What are you doing?” 

“I'm making sure you're warm, Gogs.” Wilbur replied. George found himself blushing more from his genuine tone than when he teased him. 

“I don't need you to baby me,” George huffed, however, he stopped fighting and let Wilbur wrap him up in the blanket. 

Wilbur chuckled, finally backing away from George and settling on the other side of the couch, “I'm not babying you, I just want to make sure you're okay.”

George readjusted the oversized sweatshirt shifting and exposing his collarbone. Wilbur didn't mean to stare, but on George's pale skin was a series of rashes, so faint he could barely see them in the dim lighting of his house.

He leaned forward without thinking, padding the smooth skin of George's shoulder, exposing more of the red rashes. From that position, he could see the back of his neck and ears. Both of which looked a little inflamed, but besides that completely fine. 

It didn't make any sense. He saw the blood. Where was the source? 

His fingers moved from his shoulder to his jaw, slightly tilting his face to get a better look. 

“You are okay, right Gogy?” 

George inhaled sharply, his eyes fluttering closed. Wilbur's touch sent shivers throughout his body, and he bit his lip, “I- I'm fine.” 

Wilbur hummed in acknowledgment, before moving back to his spot, draping his arm over the back of the couch. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each sipping on their tea. Wilbur finally noticed the chill in his body, despite the hot liquid and changing earlier, and he shivered. 

George's head snapped towards him, his eyes widening with concern, “Are you cold?” 

Before he could even answer, George was sitting up, peeling the blanket off of himself. Wilbur reached forward and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from moving it any more. 

“I'm fine Gogy, I want you to be warm.” 

George pouted, “But I don't want to be warm if you aren't. Take the blanket, I already stole your clothes.”

“You didn't  _ steal  _ my clothes,” Wilbur laughed, “I offered them to you.” 

“Still-” George continued, “You've already done so much for me, if you're cold take the blanket.” 

“No."

George rolled his eyes, a fond smile playing at his lips, “You're such an idiot.” 

Before Wilbur knew it, George was scooching towards him, raising a side of the blanket and draping it over his legs.

Wilbur sat frozen in shock while George readjusted, sitting just close enough that he could feel his body heat radiating off of him. 

He eventually relaxed, leaning back slightly into the cushions. George followed suit, before he noticed Wilbur’s arm, which was still on the back of the couch, and tried to sit back up.

Wilbur didn't let him, however. He immediately wrapped his arm around George's shoulders and pulled him closer. He was notorious in his friend group for being cuddly, especially when it stormed. 

When George gasped and tensed against him, Wilbur almost let him go, but before he could, he felt George's head lay against his shoulder and a dainty arm wrap around his stomach.

“You're a human furnace.” George mumbled, “Seriously, why are you so warm?”

“Is this your way of calling me hot? Gogs, I’m flattered.” Wilbur teased, laughing when he heard George sputtering below him. 

He looked down, and the sight that beheld him left him speechless. 

George was curled against his chest, his eyelids drooping and his cheeks painted in an adorable array of pinks and reds. His mouth was parted like he was going to say something but the words died on his perfectly rosy lips.

“Are you tired?” Wilbur asked, voice low, his own exhaustion clouding his judgment. 

He felt a small nod against his chest and he looked down fondly, adoration pooling in his brown eyes. He tightened his hold on George before adjusting, leaning back completely and pulling him on top of his chest. 

George pushed against his chest with little strength, caving when Wilbur pulled him back down and laid the blanket over them. 

“Shh,” Wilbur whispered, closing his eyes and rubbing George's back, “Sleepytime, Gogs.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ha! Yeah, right, because mermaids are definitely real, and there just so happens to be one that's dying to get my attention,” Wilbur laughed, his tone playful, it was painfully clear to George that he was only teasing.
> 
> “Yeah, one is,” George replied, completely deadpan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the drill, follow our Tumblr's! @FireFly464 & @SlushiesForCar  
> (And check out our other works ofc)

Soft sunlight spilled into the room, making George squint as he opened his eyes.

He was warm, so warm, and comfortable. A heavy blanket was draped over his body, threatening to drag him back down into the inviting depths of sleep. He felt the slow breathing of someone beneath him, and he smiled, nuzzling deeper into their embrace. That's when his eyes shot open and his sleepiness abandoned him.

There was someone beneath him.

He bit his lip to stop from groaning as he remembered everything that had happened the night before, the last thing he needed was to wake up the sleeping giant beneath him. 

As he tried to gently push himself off of Wilbur, said man stirred in his sleep, reaching out to him and pulling back down on his chest.

This time George couldn't contain his huff, his cheeks burned and his heart raced as he silently cursed his clingy friend. 

George could hear his phone ringing, faintly and from what he was pretty sure was the bathroom. That’s what he assumed anyway, as he didn’t really get a proper tour of the place the day before. 

He gently tried to move Wilbur’s wrist, once again trying to maneuver his way off of the couch without waking up the sleeping man. When he finally managed to escape the warm embrace, he exhaled a long breath of relief. He was in the final stretch. 

He placed a hand on Wilbur’s chest, only taking a second to recognize how small he really was compared to him, before pushing himself up. He pushed the blanket to the side, already feeling cold at the lack of warmth from the other man. 

When he finally got off of the sofa, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was sure he had escaped Wilbur’s hold without waking him. That’s when he heard a groan behind him and his stomach dropped. 

“Gogy?” Wilbur asked, voice thick with sleep. George turned just in time to see him stretching, arms above his head and his shirt riding up. He immediately shifted his gaze, feeling his cheeks grow warm. 

“Uh-” George started, before he heard his phone ringing again, “I need to answer that.” 

He quickly walked to the bathroom, digging through his clothes that he left on the counter and grabbing his phone. He grimaced when he saw four missed calls from Dream, along with a lot of texts and discord notifications. 

He leaned against the counter and ran a hand through his hair, preparing himself to call Dream. There was no way his best friend wouldn’t notice that something was off. 

He exhaled sharply before pressing his icon. 

“George!” 

He recoiled, pulling the phone away from his ear for a moment, giving Dream time to get it out of his system.

“Where the hell are you?!” Dream yelled through the phone, “We were supposed to start recording ten minutes ago!” 

George’s stomach dropped, with everything that had happened the day before, he had completely spaced the fact that he said he would record today. 

“Shit…” he muttered under his breath, bringing the phone back to his ear, “Uh, yeah about that- “

“-Hey, Gogy, do you want breakfast?” His heart stuttered when he heard Wilbur’s voice. It was low and gravelly, still filled with remains of his slumber. 

Wilbur stopped in his tracks when he noticed George was on the phone, his eyes nearly doubling in size. George chewed the inside of his cheek, cringing more and more with every second of silence that passed. 

He eventually cleared his throat, bracing himself for the onslaught of questioning, “Dream?” 

Wilbur took the hint and backed away, leaving him to face Dream by himself. He wasn’t sure if he was grateful for the privacy, or resentful of Wilbur for being able to leave. For half a second, he considered just hanging up and handling it when he got home. 

“Dream are you there?” 

He hated how timid he sounded, like Dream was his mother about to scold him for spending the night out. He shouldn’t be afraid, he was a grown-ass adult, but that didn’t make his heart race any less. 

“Dream.”

When he finally answered, he was practically screaming, and George nearly dropped the phone out of shock.

“What. The. FUCK?!” 

“It’s not what it seems like-” George rushed out, the blood rushing to his face making the room seem a hundred degrees hotter. All further explanations died on his lips as he realized there was no possible way to explain the situation with Dream unless he came clean about  _ everything. _

He stayed silent, thinking about how he could get out of this with as little embarrassment as possible, when Dream let out quite possibly the loudest wheeze he had ever heard, followed by a series of laughs.

Despite his worrying, he found himself cracking a smile, a small number of giggles escaping his throat, “Dream, Dream- stop.” He laughed, rubbing a hand over his face, before turning around and facing the mirror. 

Wilbur’s clothes were massive on him. He knew it as soon as he put them on last night, but looking in the mirror, he saw how small he actually looked in them. He looked dainty, almost. His sweatshirt reached his thighs, and he had to bunch up the sleeves to keep them from falling past his pale fingertips. 

He waited patiently for Dream to calm down, twirling slightly in his reflection. He wasn’t checking himself out per se, but he couldn’t deny how much he liked wearing Wilbur’s clothes. They were warm, comforting, and smelt good. 

After another moment, he heard Dream coughing, a sure sign he was almost done, and he bit his lip. 

“So I take it your date with Wilbur went well, huh?” He said, his voice raspy from laughter, “Get it Georgie!” 

George’s mouth dropped open, his hand flying up to cover it out of habit. His eyes were wide and any redness that left his cheeks returned. “T-That’s not what happened,” he stammered.

Dream started laughing again, his tea-kettle ancestors coming through with every wheeze, “You don’t have to- You don’t have to be ashamed George.” He giggled, thriving now that he had a new opportunity to embarrass George.

George huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “You’re such an idiot. We got caught in a storm and I ended up staying the night,” He explained, keeping out the part about how he slept on Wilbur’s chest and how he was currently in his clothes. 

He walked out of the bathroom, searching for Wilbur to ask where to put his clothes. He just wanted to go home and record with Dream and avoid all of this. “I’m going to hang up now, I need to get home before we can record.” 

Wilbur emerged from the kitchen, cup of coffee in hand and a piece of toast in his mouth, smiling when he saw George. It seemed so domestic to see him like this, hair still messed up from sleep and in his pajamas. It was intimate, almost. 

He took the toast out of his mouth quickly, speaking before George could, “You don’t need to leave, you can use my setup.” 

George froze in place, and he could faintly hear Dream teasing him from the other line, but he ignored it, “You really don’t have to do that. I’ve already been here a lot longer than either of us were expecting.”

“It’s no trouble, gogs, really.” He answered simply, and George cringed, Dream was never going to let him live this down. He could already hear him saying “Gogs? Really?” 

Wilbur led him in his bedroom, sitting down at the desk temporarily to sign in. George stood awkwardly at the foot of his bed, still holding his quiet phone to his ear, as Dream went to feed patches. 

His eyes darted around the room nervously, eventually settling on the small shell that sat on Wilbur’s desk. A small smile graced his face at the sight of the shimmering blue conch. Before he even realized what he was doing, he had crossed the space between the bed and the desk, moving closer to inspect the shell. He gently picked it up, rotating it slowly as he stared at it.

Wilbur glanced up at movement, a fond expression taking his face, “Would you believe me if I said I found that on the beach I took you to?” 

George raised an eyebrow, gently setting the shell back on the desk, “Really?”

Wilbur hummed, picking up the shell himself and looking at it with admiration. It warmed George's heart seeing how much he appreciated the object.

“I've never seen anything like it before…” Wilbur trailed off, “It makes me really happy.” 

After a moment of comfortable silence, they both seemed to remember what they were doing, and George's guilt returned full-fledged. 

He bit his lip, fidgeting with Wilbur’s sweater, “It really wouldn’t be that big of a deal for us to wait to film, Wilbur.” 

The man in question leaned back in the chair and furrowed his eyebrows, “Stop worrying, gogy, I literally couldn't care less. You could stream for all I care.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, chat would lose their mind when they see who’s setup it is.” George joked, still feeling guilty about how much he imposed on Wilbur. Still, he couldn’t help but feel slightly relieved that he didn’t have to leave quite yet. He enjoyed spending time with Wilbur.

“And whose clothes you’re in,” Wilbur replied. George felt the heat rise to his cheeks, and Wilbur smirked. He looked smug almost, like he was proud to have him there, in his bedroom, in his clothes. George quickly rid those thoughts from his head. He was already never going to hear the end of this from Dream. 

“Okay, I’m back! Are we almost ready?” Dream asked, causing George to almost drop his phone in shock. 

Wilbur turned away from him, loading something onto the computer before standing up, “It’s all yours Gogs. Let me know if you need anything.” He said before shutting the door behind him, leaving him alone in his room. 

George tentatively sat down in the chair, which also made him feel quaint. Everything in Wilbur's room did, but he didn't mind it. He logged in to discord, and transferred his call with Dream onto that, putting Wilbur’s headset, with a little adjustment, over his ears. 

“So are we going to talk about it?” Dream asked while George loaded up Minecraft, “I mean we have to.” 

“No, we don’t,” George answered simply, switching accounts, “How about, we let it go?”

“I don’t know about that,  _ Gogs _ .” Dream teased, causing George to wince. The nickname didn’t sound right coming from Dream, as he had only really heard Wilbur and occasionally Tommy use it. 

“Can we please just focus?” George asked, clearly done with the conversation, “I want to get home so I can shower and go to bed in my own clothes.” As soon as he said it he cringed, dropping his head into his hands. 

_ “You’re own clothes,”  _ Dream repeated, his voice filled with humor.

George groaned, “I just got a little wet, okay, he let me borrow his clothes.” 

Dream hummed, rather than tease him. It made George’s stomach flutter with anticipation, Dream was rarely ever serious. 

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

A small smile tugged on George’s lips, and he leaned back into the chair, “I know.” 

He heard a soft knock at the door before it creaked open. George removed one ear of the headphones, watching as Wilbur stepped through with a plate of food and a glass of apple juice. 

“Are you recording yet?” He asked quietly, nodding towards the monitor. 

George shook his head, trying not to roll his eyes when Wilbur sat the food in front of him, a plate of eggs, toast, and sausage. He looked back up, making eye contact, “What’s this?” He asked, his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. 

Wilbur just smiled, “You haven’t eaten since I’ve seen you, can’t have you passing out on me, Gogs.” 

George stared at him incredulously, ignoring the deafening wheeze from the headset. Wilbur didn’t seem to be bothered about this in the slightest, but George had to stop himself from collapsing. He thought earlier was domestic, but this was next level. 

“Is Dream back?” he asked, motioning to the headset. 

He nodded, still stunned by how kind Wilbur was being to him. Carrying him in the rain, letting him borrow his clothes, making him food. He understood why so many people on TikTok called him ‘the only valid man’. 

Wilbur leaned in close to the mic, blowing directly in it. George couldn’t contain his laughter as Dream shrieked and dropped his headset, cursing loudly. 

He turned his head from the mic, leveling with George’s. They were only a mere six-inches apart, George could feel his breath against his skin. The rational side of his brain told him to back away, and yet, he didn’t. Their eyes met, and George bit his lip, taking a deep breath. 

“Tell him I say hi,” Wilbur whispered, his gaze flicking to George’s lips, and out of pure reflex George swiped his tongue against his bottom lip, wetting it. 

He nodded slowly, exhaling sharply when Wilbur’s gaze returned to his own. “Thank you.” His voice was soft and gentle as he tried to ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest. 

Wilbur slowly backed away, standing up straight and tilting his head, “For what?”

“For everything,” George answered genuinely, muting his discord. Dream had already heard far too much, “This wasn’t quite the vlog part two we were expecting.” 

Wilbur’s chest shook with laughter, making George smile. He felt weirdly proud that he got that reaction out of him, any remaining tense energy melting away. 

“I’ve enjoyed my time with you, Gogs. You’re always welcome to steal my clothes and pass out on my couch. Or in my arms, whichever you prefer”

George groaned, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, “You’re so dumb.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Wilbur laughed, already walking back out to the hallway, “Have fun recording.” 

As Wilbur left the room, George forced himself to not reach towards the door. 

* * *

It had been a mere couple of days since their time together, but George could still feel his heart racing whenever he thought about their time together. 

Flashes of the couch, laying on Wilbur’s chest, the way the rise and fall of his chest lulled George to sleep, and how his large hands covered a striking amount of his skin. George's mouth felt dry, and his face flushed. 

His head fell into his hands, as though covering his face would make the entire situation disappear. “God damn it…” he muttered aloud, almost breathless. 

A discord notification pierced through his thoughts, dragging him back into the land of the living. Slowly raising his head, George's eyes widened, it was almost as if Wilbur sensed his inner turmoil, and that he was the cause, choosing to hassle him further with his friendly demeanor. 

_ WilburSoot: Hey Gogs! I was thinking about streaming some geoguesser tonight and wanted to see if you would like to join me. _

_ WilburSoot: If you want _

_ WilburSoot: No pressure  _

He bit his lip, fighting a grin from taking hold of his lips. Even when it was just about streams, Wilbur was still caring and making sure George was okay. He appreciated how Wilbur always made sure he was respecting his boundaries, no matter how mundane the task. 

He typed, then backspaced, then retyped, trying, and failing, to find the right words. He didn't want to come across as overly eager, but still enthusiastic. He rolled his eyes at how anxious he was, Wilbur was just asking him to play a dumb game with him, it wasn’t like he was asking for his hand in marriage. 

He chewed on his thumb, readjusting how he was sitting in his chair and typing quickly, pressing send before he could think about it any further. 

_ GeorgeNotFound: Sounds fun :]  _

As soon as he pressed send, he dropped his head against his desk and groaned. This was ridiculous. It was just a geoguesser stream, with his friend, who he happened to fall asleep on. He needed his heart to calm down. 

_ WilburSoot: Okay, great! Give me like an hour? _

George quickly typed out his agreements, before pushing himself up from the chair. He wouldn’t have a facecam, he knew. But the urge to change and brush through his hair was overwhelming. 

After throwing a large sweatshirt over his tee, he brushed his teeth and hair and sat back down at his setup. His foot bounced beneath his desk, and his fingers tapped on the smooth surface. He had plenty of time to work on editing his new video or even work on thumbnails, but he couldn’t focus. 

Before he knew it, an hour passed and Wilbur was calling him on Discord. 

“Gogy!” Wilbur greeted, already chuckling. George didn’t know why the sound made him smile as much as it did, but he couldn’t control it, Wilbur’s happiness was just too contagious. 

His face heated up, and he brought his knees to his chest, tapping the tops of his knees, “Wilbur!” He responded, waiting for him to set up his stream. 

“What have you been up to today, Gogs?” Wilbur asked, sending a kaleidoscope of butterflies to his stomach. He didn’t even know why. 

A light blush danced across his cheeks, and he took a second before answering, “Uh, not much, just worked on a video. What about you?” 

“I went for a little walk,” Wilbur explained half-heartedly, mainly focused on setting up the streaming software, but still listening to George.

“Down to that beach, again?” George asked, biting his lip as an idea came to him. 

“No, not today. Though I probably will tomorrow.” 

George's heart raced, if he hurried and finished the video tonight after Wilbur’s stream, he could go to the beach tomorrow. It was the perfect opportunity.

It didn’t take long for Wilbur’s stream to be ready and George was staring at the screen of geoguessr incredulously. He didn't care about geography in the slightest, why was he doing this? 

“Welcome back chat! Yes, you saw it right, we're playing geoguessr with Gogy!” 

George greeted the stream, laughing at how excited the chat was by his presence. 

“Have you ever played this before Gogs?” 

“Uhh, no. I know nothing about geography, so it's your turn to carry  _ me  _ in a game.” 

Wilbur laughed, excited to be the best at something since their last speed running stream he was completely reliant on George. 

They made it through a couple of rounds, Wilbur keeping his promise of carrying George. He knew within seconds where they were based on shadows, trees, and languages. It amazed George, who stared at the flag of Macedonia with contempt for a solid five minutes before Wilbur finally freed him from his misery. 

“You could almost say I'm the Dream of geoguessr, huh gogs?” 

George's nose crinkled at the mention of Dream, he knew a lot of people made jokes about his friend, but this seemed so random. Why would Wilbur bring him up? 

“Careful, you'll get geoguessr mods coming after you.” George joked, not caring about how he knew it would be clipped to hell and back, Dream was comfortable enough joking about the investigation, why couldn’t he? 

“Oh, I'm not worried, I'm more concerned about Dream stans coming after me for stealing his boyfriend.” 

George frowned, it was the same joke he had made many times before, but this time he couldn't help but feel there was some underlying bitterness.

He ignored the anxiety pooling in his stomach, trying to match the same teasing tone, “Aww, is Wilbur jealous?” 

He watched as Wilbur rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging his lips, “I'm not jealous, Gogs. Everyone can tell we have much more chemistry.” His voice was purposefully low, making George scoff.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” He replied, trying to remember the end of MCC 11 when he and Wilbur joked about having a ship name. He smiled proudly when he recalled, “The wigy stans are thriving right now.”

Wilbur guffawed, clapping his hands and leaning back in his chair like he did whenever he found something particularly funny, “Yes! Wigy!” 

When he leaned back forward, he slipped, his hands slamming on the table to stop him from falling and his camera point of view switching to the ceiling. 

George laughed loudly, with so much force that tears filled his eyes and he had to gasp for breath, leaning in the back of his chair. 

“You, you know that's going to be clipped and used against you for forever, right?” He asked when he finally caught his breath, stray giggles escaping between his words.

Wilbur chuckled, fixing his camera and waiting patiently for George to calm down completely. 

While he did so, he watched the chat and took the time to read a couple of donations, before his chat slowly began to spam about the same thing. He fought the urge to roll his eyes at their persistent hive-mind. 

He laughed at the messages, everyone just  _ needed  _ to know what “the blue thing” on his desk was. 

“Oh you mean this, chat?” Wilbur asked, picking up his shell and holding it to the camera, a fond expression taking his face, “It's a shell, I found it on the beach a little while ago. Cool, huh?”

George quickly calmed down, chewing the inside of his cheek, “It is pretty.” 

Wilbur hummed in agreement, running his fingers over the grooves absentmindedly, “I've never seen anything like it before, I’m surprised I found something that cool just sitting on the beach.” 

“Maybe a merfolk is trying to impress you,” George replied, a light blush dusting his cheeks. As soon as he said it, his stomach twisted and his heart raced, waiting impatiently for Wilburs response. 

“Pfft, did you just call them merfolk? That sounds so formal and serious! Why don’t you just say mermaid?”

“You never know, it could be a merman. I don’t wanna assume the gender of your secret admirer” 

“Ha! Yeah, right, because mermaids are definitely real, and there just so happens to be one that's dying to get my attention,” Wilbur laughed, his tone playful, and it was painfully clear to George that he was teasing.

“Yeah, one is,” George replied, completely deadpan. 

“Aww, are you jealous of my secret mermaid admirer?” Wilbur asked, throwing his own joke back at him. George rolled his eyes, an almost disbelieving smile on his face. He couldn't believe they were having this conversation. 

“Merfolk…” George corrected quietly, letting the conversation move on. 

However, George couldn't focus. His attention couldn't shift from the shell that was still in Wilbur’s hand, the blue object acting as a beacon for his attention. 

The stream ended soon enough, as Wilbur usually only streamed for an hour or so at a time. 

After they said their goodbyes, George stayed in place. 

He logged into the recording server the Dream Team used, needing something to fidget with but not focus on. That used to be the Dream SMP, but with its growing popularity he knew the chances of someone else streaming on there would be high, and he quite frankly didn’t want to deal with that. 

He went through some of the house designs he saved from when he built his mushroom cottage, looking for something to build. He found building calming, something he could focus on without really giving it any mind. 

Gathering wood, he thought about how much had changed over the last couple of months. Two months ago he had really only talked to Dream, Sapnap, and sometimes Punz and Ponk. But now that he had put himself out there more, and gotten out of his shell, he had gotten the chance to become friends with Karl, Quackity, and so many more. And he loved being their friend, he genuinely enjoyed talking to them.

He thought about Wilbur, who he had barely spoken too, but was now an important person in his life. The musician always seemed to know what to say, what to do, how to make him laugh. He could tease him, but still respected his boundaries. He was caring, without coming across as overbearing. 

George smiled thinking about the weekend he had accidentally spent at Wilbur’s house. He didn’t seem to care one bit that George had intruded, stealing his clothes, food, and time, even offering his setup to stream on. 

A small part of him missed that. That quiet domesticity had grown on him quite quickly, and he wanted to be back in that. Back in his arms, in his clothes, his room that just  _ screamed  _ 24-year-old bachelor, though George didn’t mind. 

He wanted more. 

His attention snapped to the in-game chat, and his breath hitched. 

_ Dream Joined The Game  _

_ Dream: Call me _

_ Dream: We need to talk  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 stay safe out there everyone


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Dream had asked after a minute of silence. George couldn’t tell what he was thinking like he usually could, and it made him nervous. His heart raced, and his throat constricted. Hot tears pricked the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill with every breath. 
> 
> He didn’t like Wilbur. Not like that. They were friends, they were getting closer. Everything he had been feeling was platonic affection, that’s it. His breathing quickened, and he mulled over the word… friends. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, and acid burning in his stomach. 
> 
> His face fell into his hands, “I- I don’t know.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, follow our Tumblrs, @FireFly464, and @SlushiesForCar  
> (and check out our other works)

_ “George, we need to talk.” Dream had asked, skipping any polite greetings and going straight to the point. _

_ George’s heart raced, and his hands dropped from the keyboard, “What are you talking about.” He played dumb. Dream knew him better than anyone, and he could definitely tell when he was lying. Only this time, George had two things to come clean about.  _

_ Dream sighed from the other end of the line, “Something’s been up with you recently. I wanted to give you space, but I watched Wilbur’s stream today. You were acting… way too off.”  _

_ His mind went a thousand miles an hour, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, “Uh, I don’t know what you’re implying.” He replied lamely, his voice quiet.  _

_ “Don’t pull that bullshit with me.” _

George woke up the next day, slowly and only after setting multiple alarms. But when he remembered his plans, any remaining exhaustion left his body. He quickly gathered everything he needed, and shoved it into a bag, heading out the front door much earlier than he was usually awake. 

Looking outside of the window of his uber, silent earbuds in his ears to keep the driver from starting a conversation. Multiple times he had to keep himself from asking the driver to stop and just… turn around. 

_ “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Dream had asked after a minute of silence. George couldn’t tell what he was thinking like he usually could, it made him nervous. His heart raced, and his throat constricted. Hot tears pricked the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill with every breath.  _

_ He didn’t like Wilbur. Not like that. They were friends, they were getting closer. Everything he had been feeling was platonic affection, that’s it. His breathing quickened, and he mulled over the word… friends. It left a bitter taste on his tongue, and acid burning in his stomach.  _

_ His face fell into his hands, “I- I don’t know.”  _

_ “Tell me about what you do know.” Dream supplied. He didn't sound mad, and George let out a relieved breath he didn't know he was holding.  _

His mind didn’t even process the moving buildings, or people passing by, completely occupied with thoughts of Wilbur. Despite his anxiety, he found excitement in seeing him again. He wanted to see the way his curly hair bounced when he laughed, and the way his eyes lit up when he was excited. 

He wanted to smell the fresh ocean air and feel the sun on his skin. He had to be careful, he couldn’t get too close, like last time. He had been dumb and almost been caught. 

A part of him felt creepy, leaving gifts and watching from afar. But Wilbur’s fond smile and gentle appreciation of the shell was like a drug. All he wanted was to make him happy. 

_ Taking a second to gather his thoughts, George began speaking, “I know I like spending time with him.” He said carefully.  _

_ Dream hummed, urging him to keep going. George opened his mouth, though this time, he couldn't keep it in. It was like the floodgates had opened, “I really like spending time with him.” He took a deep breath, “He makes me feel safe and comfortable and he makes me laugh. Did you know he can cook? Well eggs and toast, but still.” A smile slowly crept onto his face as he thought about it.  _

_ “He likes the beach. And I don't know if it's because of where he lives but he always smells like a mix of coffee and fresh rain.” George was fully grinning now, and he pulled his knees to his chest, “I know I like how confident he is like he never feels out of place. It could come across as cocky to some people, but not me.” _

_ Dream laughed from across the line, breaking George from his tangent and making him blush, “I’m glad you’ve met someone who makes you feel like that, but I wasn’t talking about your not-so-secret crush on Wilbur.” _

_ George did a double-take, eyes widening in horror when he finally processed what Dream said. The temperature in his room seemed to increase, and he didn’t need to see his reflection to know he was blushing profusely. “I don’t have a crush on Wilbur…” he muttered half-heartedly.  _

_ “Mhmm. Right.”  _

The uber arrived, and he quickly clambered out of the vehicle, heading to the path that led down the beach. 

George practically ran down the pathway, dodging the bushes and rocks that laid haphazardly in the way. His heart was pounding, and his head spinning. This was it, it was too late to turn back now.

_ “S-so!” he stuttered, trying to change the subject. “What- what were you talking about then?” As he spoke, he fought the urge to just hang up and pretend this conversation never happened.  _

_ “You’re keeping something from me, not just the Wilbur thing, that was painfully obvious, but something else,” Dream spoke arrogantly, causing George to roll his eyes, “Tell me.”  _

_ He froze in his place, and chewed the inside of his cheek, his mind at war with itself. Dream was his best friend; if he was supportive of Wilbur, he’d be supportive about this too. He had to be. But was it worth the risk? _

_ “I uh… I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Shit. He had always been terrible at lying, and right now was no exception.  _

_ He could practically feel Dream’s exasperation when he spoke, “Don't bullshit me, George. We've been friends for how long? We both know you're lying to my face right now.”  _

_ Guilt hit him like a tsunami, washing away his resolve. He hated lying, especially to Dream. Taking a deep breath, he sat up straight and rubbed his hands on his thighs, “You’re right, there is something else.”  _

He set down his bag of spare clothes behind rocks, covering it with a couple of branches and foliage. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. 

Next was his shoes. He slipped them off, setting them beside the bag then walking to the shore. 

_ George opened and closed his mouth, any explanations dying on his tongue. “I- I think it's something I need to show you.”  _

_ He ignored Dreams confused questioning, reaching to the side of his monitor, where he kept a bottle of water for streams. He started his webcam, then unscrewed the lid, breathing heavily.  _

_ “-George what are you doing? Stop messing around.” _

_ He kept going, setting the cap down on his desk before pouring a small amount of the water onto the back of his hand.  _

_ His rapidly beating heart drowned out the uncomfortable sensation on his hand, and he held it up to the camera. It would take a second, he knew, but he was impatient.  _

_ “You need some moisturizer, Jesus, your hand is all red.” Dream commented, making George roll his eyes.  _

_ “Give it a second.” _

_ “To see your gross dry hand?”  _

_ The smallest pinpricks of blood dotted the back of his hand, getting progressively larger as his skin broke from his sharp, growing scales.  _

_ He heard Dream gasp, “George, you’re bleeding!”  _

_ “Yeah, no shit sherlock.”  _

_ As both the size and quantity of the slices on the back of his hand increased, he took a deep breath and wiped some of the blood away, waiting for the last of it to drip before wiping again.  _

_ Beneath it, was a small patch of vibrant blue scales, still slightly tainted from the blood, but clean enough to see.  _

_ He waited impatiently for the camera to focus, and when it finally did, he braced himself.  _

_ A beat of silence passed, then two, and then finally-  _

_ “-wHAT THE FUCK?”  _

Gentle waves crashed against his ankles, the chill water sending shivers down his spine. The itching sensation was almost instant, spreading as he walked further and further into the deep blue water. He could feel as small scales began to puncture the skin on his feet. Normally, the sensation may have been painful and tedious, possibly even resulting in his skin being covered in blood. 

However, the water that splashed around his legs made the process quick and painless, healing the resulting wounds almost as quickly as they opened. 

_ George jumped slightly, recoiling his hand and placing it on his thigh. His heart raced, and a small, but growing part of him wondered if he made a mistake.  _

_ “No, no- wait,” Dream spoke, steady and comforting, George let out a relieved breath he didn't know he was holding, “Show me again.”  _

_ Slowly raising his hand to the camera once again, he chewed on his lip, letting Dream look at his hand for as long as he needed.  _

_ “Are those-” _

_ “-Scales? Yeah.”  _

_ Silence fell between them yet again, but this time not near as uncomfortable.  _

_ “You, you have scales.” Dream said incredulously. George heard the faint sound of his chair squeaking in the background, and knew he was moving closer to the monitor, “You poured water on your hand, and now you have scales. You're… you're what? A mermaid?”  _

_ George huffed at the incorrect term, but didn't bother correcting him, “You're a genius. Put that in Dreams one million IQ moments.” He bit back, before taking a deep breath, “But yeah, I am.”  _

George trudged forward slowly, letting the water creep up to his hips. He looked down at his legs, watching as they slowly fused together, a wide smile on his face. 

He leaped forward, diving under the water and swimming straight down, swishing his half-formed tail side to side as he descended into the deep ocean. 

The further down he swam, the easier it was to move through the water, and the clearer the world around him became.

It wasn't long until he was completely transformed, his lungs merged with gills, and his skin completely covered in scales. The fins behind his ears fluttered against the back of his head, the sensation used to bother him, but now he found it comforting.

_ “This can't be real.” Dream said, still trying to find a logical explanation, “You're pranking me, aren't you?” He laughed, making George roll his eyes, “Wow, you- you almost got me.”  _

_ He let out a quiet grumble of annoyance. Of course, Dream didn’t believe him.  _

_ “I- I'm telling you the truth.” George muttered, growing irritation dripping from his voice, “I showed you the scales. How would I fake this?”  _

_ “I don't know,” Dream admitted, the exasperation clear in his voice, “But you have to admit, this is insane.”  _

_ George took a long breath in, his mind going a mile a minute, before he stood up suddenly, almost knocking over his water bottle in the process, “I'll be right back, I- I have an idea.”  _

_ After a long minute, he eventually returned, settling a bowl in front of his keyboard. He filled it with the remaining water in his water bottle, then slowly lowered his hand inside.  _

_ It didn't take long for his hand to start tingling, each individual cell vibrating and morphing into something else entirely.  _

_ A thin film of skin grew slowly from his palm, between his fingers, and towards his fingertips, almost translucent, pale blue in color. As the film reached the top, more scales emerged from his skin, and long, sharp claws grew from his nail beds. _

_ His lips curled into a smug smile, and he raised his hand from the bowl, hesitating before it was completely out, “Are you ready, Dream?”  _

_ “Ready for what? What are you doing now?”  _

_ George rolled his eyes, “Just- are you ready?”  _

_ “Yes, I’m read- whOA OH MY GOD.” Dream yelled as George raised his hand, holding it a good distance from the camera so Dream could see the full thing.  _

_ “Still think I'm faking?”  _

_ He didn't mean to come across as cocky, or maybe he did, but hearing Dream’s scoff made him smirk victoriously. That'll stop Dream from doubting him ever again.  _

_ “Don't get so cocky, you're acting like it's my fault for not believing that you're a mermaid.” Dream rebutted, making George smile even harder.  _

_ “Merfolk.” _

_ “What?”  _

_ George leaned closer to the monitor, showing off his newly transformed webbed fingers, “Mermaid isn't the correct term.” He said simply, eventually resting his hand on the desk.  _

_ Dream wheezed, and George could hear the faint sound of his hands hitting his desk, “Correct term?” He eventually got out, “Wouldn't it be merman then?”  _

_ The breath left George's lungs and his smile dropped, annoyance taking hold of his face, “Shut up.” He knew it was a silly thing to be annoyed about, but he couldn’t exactly help it.  _

_ “Wait, wait…” Dream laughed again, so hard George worried he was going to faint, “You admitted to me about being a mermaid before you admitted that you have a crush on Wilbur!”  _

_ “Merfolk,” George huffed, his cheeks growing warm, “And I don't have a crush on Wilbur.”  _

_ Dream laughed even harder, making George glare at his discord icon. He contemplated just leaving the call, going to bed, and ignoring Dream, but he knew that wouldn't solve anything.  _

Descending further, he looked for anything that caught his eye. There was a colorful shell, a pretty rock, way more broken beer bottles than there should be, but nothing that gathered his attention. Nothing that was truly special. 

He took a deep breath, getting used to the feeling of water flowing over the slits in his neck. As often as he transformed, the feeling of switching from air to water was always jarring. 

_ “I saw he has a shell, a really rare one, people on Twitter were talking about it. Some marine biologist that watches the SMP said it was hard to find, and usually stays on the bottom of the ocean floor…”  _

_ George's eyebrows furrowed, “So?”  _

_ “You got it for him, didn't you?”  _

_ “So what if I did?” George bit back, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, “I just wanted to find him a pretty shell, what’s so weird about that?”  _

_ “You swam, to the bottom of the literal ocean, to find Wilbur a pretty shell.” Dream replied incredulously. George’s heart rate sped up, and his room grew hotter, making him sweat.  _

_ He let a moment of silence pass before he replied, voice quiet like he was trying to convince himself, as well as Dream, “I just thought he would like it. That’s it.” Despite trying to make his voice sound steady and convincing, it dripped in doubt. Even he could hear how uncertain he was.  _

_ But that didn’t matter? Right? George just wanted to get his friend a nice shell. Once again, the word friend made his nose curl and his stomach twist. It felt wrong, out of place.  _

_ “You didn’t put yourself in danger going down that deep, did you?” Dream asked, his tone soaked with concern. It made George smile, knowing he was worried and that he was so accepting of his secret.  _

_ “It’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.” George explained, “Besides, it was worth it. The shell is nice, and did you see how happy it made Wilbur? I would do it again.”  _

As he swam further along the coast, something caught his eye, and he glided closer. His now webbed hands reached out, grabbing the tan object, a large, sharp-toothed grin breaking out onto his face when he realized what it was.

In his hand was a large tooth, once belonging to a shark before it ended up nestled in the rocks. It gave George an idea. He swam back up towards the little section of beach behind Wilbur’s, gathering any string, rope, and seaweed he found on his way. 

It didn’t take long for him to braid a quick cord for a necklace, weaving the different materials and wrapping it around the base of the tooth, and using more to secure it. He used to make them all the time for friends, and he was glad the muscle memory stuck. 

As soon as he was finished, he swam to the tide pool, laying it on the same rock that he did the shell. It looked too plain in his opinion, Wilbur deserved more. 

He grabbed a handful of pebbles, fighting the urge to cringe as he assorted them into the shape of a heart, the necklace in the center. He typically wasn't the cheesy-romance type, but Wilbur was, and he wanted to make sure it was perfect for him, despite it just being a gift.

_ Only after he spoke did he realize how much he was willing to do, how deep he was willing to go, just so he could make Wilbur smile. But it’s not like that was weird, Wilbur had a really nice smile. His happiness was contagious, any happiness he got, he gave George twice as much. George was being selfish, really.  _

_ “Simp,” Dream replied simply. George could tell he was smiling, and he groaned internally. He knew Dream was never going to let this go. Maybe he could just go live underwater, where there was no embarrassment and no annoying best friend.  _

His eyes widened and he immediately backed up, sinking into the water. Wilbur was already coming down the path, and he cursed under his breath. He wasn't expecting him to be there so soon. 

He watched from shallow water as Wilbur walked straight towards the tide pool, eyeing the new addition on the rocks carefully. 

Wilbur kneeled down next to the rock, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips tugging into a perplexed smile. He picked up the necklace carefully, inspecting it like it was a piece of fine jewelry, made of gold and diamonds rather than a shark's tooth and rope. 

George watched from afar, smiling and not thinking of anything but how nice Wilbur looked. He was in his iconic yellow crewneck, and George loved it. It was one of the colors he could see, and while he got tired of it sometimes, it looked incredible on Wilbur. 

After a moment, Wilbur slid the band of the necklace over his head, gently laying the tooth over his chest. He was still smiling, rubbing his fingers over the pendant while he looked at the pebble heart. 

He couldn't help it, the desire to get closer overrode his better instincts, and he gently swam forward, the water gliding around him. 

_ It took him a second to realize said best friend was still speaking, and he forced himself to pay attention, “-no harm in liking Wilbur.”  _

_ George frowned, resting his head in his hands, “Sorry, what? I zoned out.”  _

_ Dream huffed, before restarting, “I was just saying, I don’t know why you’re afraid to admit you like Wilbur. There’s nothing wrong with it, he’s a great guy, although sometimes a little pretentious-”  _

_ “-Dream.”  _

_ “Sorry, but no seriously, you’re both great and you would be great together. If you ever do get with him, I’ll support it. I mean I’d have to threaten him of course,” Dream chuckled, “But I do think you’d be great with him.” _

He wasn’t sure what happened, what went wrong. But one second he was getting closer to Wilbur, appreciating how contagious his smile was, getting closer and closer to the surface, and then the next his tail was above the water. He quickly tried to bring it back under before Wilbur could notice, but the motion made water slap against his fin, the loud sound gathering Wilbur’s attention. 

George immediately tried to swim back under the water, hoping that it would hide him and that Wilbur would just think it was a fish breaching the water. His heart was racing, but as Wilbur walked closer to see what the noise was, he froze. He was deep in the water, and Wilbur’s gaze shifted, easing George’s breath. Maybe he didn’t see him. 

But then Wilbur looked directly at him, and they made eye contact. Wilbur’s head tilted, and he stepped closer, trying to get a better look. 

George didn’t know what to do, he was terrified about the prospect of being found. Would Wilbur even recognize him in his fully transformed state? Maybe he would think it was just some strange type of fish. 

He backed up, slowly and carefully, praying Wilbur turned around. 

_ George’s heart was about to burst, both with embarrassment and fondness. He appreciated how supportive Dream was, especially after the bomb that had been dropped on him earlier, but he still wasn’t ready to think about Wilbur and his feelings towards him.  _

_ He partied a bit in uni, as Ponk told literally everybody, but that didn’t mean he slept around. He had only had a few partners in his life, and all of them ended after less than a year. His career made it difficult, a lot of people didn’t understand the hours of streams, of recording, editing, not to mention how jealous they got over his simps and the DNF jokes.  _

_ It never bothered him, he knew that it was just something that wasn’t for him. He had never been an open person or someone who craved meeting new people. He was fine in social situations, but much-preferred being with his friends or alone.  _

It was as if the gods took mercy on him, hearing his pleas and giving him an escape, as Wilbur’s head snapped to the side like he spotted something in his peripheral vision. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, using the distraction to escape and sink into the deep sea as quick as he could. 

He made sure he was deep enough to stay hidden, but still close enough to keep an eye on Wilbur, his anxiety skyrocketing as he realized just what had gathered Wilbur’s attention. 

Wilbur walked to the side of the beach with trepidation, taking his time to scan his surroundings. George didn’t need to wait for him to move the branches and rocks, he knew Wilbur had found his bag. He sucked in a breath, cursing himself for being so careless, over and over. There was no way he could explain his belongings being hidden on the beach. 

As Wilbur looked closer at the contents of the bag, and then to the shoes, his face lit up in recognition, making George’s stomach twist with worry. 

After a minute, Wilbur repacked the bag, zipping it up and throwing it over his shoulder, before bending down and grabbing the shoes. He seemed to be chuckling, and George had to fight the urge to get closer to hear it. 

Wilbur walked slowly towards the head of the trail, pulling out his phone and typing furiously at his screen. George was glad he had his phone somewhere else and had half the thought to put it on do not disturb, as he was sure the person Wilbur was contacting was him. 

_ Wilbur seemed to be the opposite. Before the pandemic, he always seemed to be out. He never had any hesitations to reach out to someone new, to strike up a conversation, or make a dumb joke about Hamilton that almost no one understood. It was endearing.  _

_ He had almost instantly felt comfortable around Wilbur, every time they interacted his growing familiarity soothed him and eased him into a headspace where he felt calm, happy, relaxed. He loved the Dream Team, he loved the Feral Boys, but the energy with Wilbur was just… unmatched. It was so different, but still so good.  _

Only after Wilbur was out of eye-sight did George let himself relax completely, still shaking his head at how dumb he had been. Dream had asked him to tell him how the day went, but George knew he would be insufferable if he knew what had happened. 

He slowly moved out of the water, grabbing his phone from where he had it hidden and sitting on the beach, but still making sure he was out of view from the pathway. Sure enough, he was right, Wilbur had messaged him on discord. 

WilburSoot: Hey, I think I found a bag of your clothes and shoes, you must have left them here when we were here last. Do you want me to bring them by?

Despite the situation, George laughed, mostly out of relief. Wilbur was probably one of the most naive people he has ever met, despite being so smart. He found a bag of clothes, and automatically assumed that George had left them there the last time they were together, even though the fact that George didn’t bring a bag. 

GeorgeNotFound: Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’m free tomorrow, if that works for you? 

He knew he could easily grab his bag that day, but he knew there was no way he could see Wilbur that day. He was naive, but there was no way he wouldn’t notice something was up.

WilburSoot: Sounds good! I look forward to seeing you again. 

_ “How do you know?” George asked, a sinking realization surrounding him, making his stomach flutter, “When you like someone as more than a friend?”  _

_ Dream hummed, taking a moment to think before he answered, “When you see them and just their presence makes you happy. When you can think of them doing something that would usually make you cringe, but when they do it it makes your heart race.” He talked, all traces of teasing leaving his voice, only the pure desire to help remained. “Could you imagine waking up, Wilbur’s arms around you? How does it make you feel?”  _

_ George closed his eyes, letting himself imagine the scene. They would be in Wilbur’s bed, sunlight spilling through the room and encasing them in a warm, golden light. Wilbur’s arms around him, but the thought didn’t make him claustrophobic, it made him feel safe. He could perfectly imagine Wilbur’s breath on his neck, something that used to annoy him, but in this case, it made his heart flutter.  _

As soon as the message came through, he nearly dropped his phone. His face felt hot, and butterflies fluttered in his stomach, making him feel nervous, but in a good way. Yeah, he definitely had feelings for him. 

He rolled his eyes, cursing out the voice in his head that sounded suspiciously close to Dream. He had a handle on his feelings, just because they were there didn’t mean he had to let them control him. He could handle it, he could act normal. He wasn’t about to sacrifice his friendship with Wilbur for his stupid crush.

He was finally starting to dry out, which was his least favorite part of transforming. His skin always felt so dry after, and sore. No amount of lotion helped soothe it, and it was almost painful. But it was necessary, and he pulled himself further up the shore, letting the bright sun help dry out his body. 

_ When he eventually opened his eyes, he noticed he was smiling, and his cheeks the hue of a bushel of strawberries. _

_ “Shut up.” He said, before Dream could say anything, the other man just wheezed in response.  _

_ “Aww, Georgie has a crush!” Dream exclaimed, “This is so cute.”  _

_ George huffed, flipping his still webbed middle finger to the camera, “I hate you, you’re so dumb.”  _

_ “You love me, wait no sorry, you looove Wilbur.”  _

_ “I’m hanging up now,” Despite his seemingly harsh words, he couldn’t help but laugh, “I have stuff to do tomorrow.”  _

_ Dream hummed in response, “Mermaid stuff or Wilbur stuff?”  _

_ “Both,” He explained simply, but before he hung up he added, “Thank you, Dream.”  _

_ “Of course. Stay safe.”  _

Later that night, as he laid in his bed, now fully back in human form, he stared at the dark ceiling. How was he supposed to see Wilbur the next day, when just seeing his name on his phone made him smile and blush? 

He was screwed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi georgebur shippers ily <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t laugh,” He started as the pendant hit his chest. George frowned, tilting his head as he waited for him to continue. Wilbur inhaled sharply, forcing his eyes back down at the tooth, “I- I keep thinking, and I know it’s ridiculous, but I keep thinking about what you said about...” he took a deep breath, “about mermaids…” his voice was quiet, almost embarrassed.
> 
> Their eyes met once again. Wilbur was prepared, waiting for George to laugh, to make fun of him, but it never came. 
> 
> “Merfolk.” George corrected softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again with your mermaid content :) 
> 
> you know the drill, check out our Tumblrs (and other works)  
> @FireFly and @SlushiesForCar

Wilbur tapped his fingers against his thighs, humming along to the music playing through his earbuds. He looked out the window of the train, watching all of the cars pass by. His lips tugged into a smile beneath his mask as he realized he was almost to his stop.

The bag of George’s clothes sat by his feet, taunting him, begging for his attention. He picked it up without thinking, settling it on his lap and fiddling with the straps. After taking it home the day before, he had to consciously stop himself from looking through the contents of the bag, his curiosity as to what George had in there almost overtaking the respect of his friends' boundaries. 

But still, he wondered if the clothes smelled like him, if he had one of his oversized hoodies in there too. He wondered how the clothing would feel under his fingertips. 

He delicately pulled out the necklace from beneath his shirt, laying the tooth on his chest, fingers rubbing the smooth pendant absent-mindedly. George’s words ran through his mind, replaying, like a broken record. 

_ Maybe a merfolk is trying to impress you.  _ It was a joke, surely, but so many weird things had been happening lately, and it all revolved around the small beach behind his house. 

The shell, the necklace, the heart made out pebbles, the almost eerie eyes he was sure he saw yesterday. It was far too strange, and he didn’t have an answer for any of it. He saw the Twitter thread talking about the shell. It said it was rare, only found on the seafloor, so how did it end up in his tide pool? There wasn’t a tsunami or a flood, or anything that would pick up rocks from the ocean floor. It had to have been placed there. 

But by who? Who would go through all this trouble? What would they get from it? 

The voice of the train conductor broke through his thoughts, alerting him that his stop was next. He stood up prematurely, grabbing his phone and bag, and moved in front of the doors. He shot off a quick message to George, alerting him of his arrival, then pulled up his address as he stepped off out of the train and onto the platform.

The station was close to George’s place, the walk only taking him a little more than five minutes. As he approached the building he sent him another message, then knocked on the door. 

It didn’t take long for George to open the door, the smaller man greeting him with a smile and a warm hello, before motioning him inside, shutting the door behind them. 

“How was the ride?” George asked, leading them into his living room and settling on the couch, Wilbur following and sitting on the opposite side. 

“It was alright, just listened to some music, although I probably should have used the time to work on new video ideas,” Wilbur laughed, laying his arm over the back of the couch and leaning back, bringing George back to their time at Wilbur’s. 

The confidence was incredible to George. Wilbur had just gotten there, and he already looked completely comfortable, like this was his house too. His chest lengthened when he leaned back, and his adams apple bobbed as he laughed. 

George forced a harsh breath in, before looking away sharply. Wilbur had  _ just  _ gotten there, he couldn’t be this flustered already, just by him existing. 

Wilbur gasped suddenly, and jumped off the couch, making George’s eyes shoot to him in concern and his heart race. 

“Gogy!” Wilbur yelled, crouching down by his coffee table and looking underneath, “You didn’t tell me you had a cat!” 

George sighed in relief, before tilting to look further under the table, “Uh, yeah, I got her a while ago.” 

“What’s her name?” Wilbur cooed, the soft tone of his voice making George’s heart melt and gentle adoration pool in his chest, “Come ‘ere kitty.” He continued.

He cleared his throat, biting his lip to keep from smiling. “Cat,” He answered simply, laughing when Wilbur shot him an incredulous look. 

“Cat?” Wilbur asked, not sure if he heard him right. The animal in question was staring at him, eyes wide and curled into a ball, it was the cutest thing Wilbur had ever seen. His eyes panned up, scanning George, whose head was tilted and had a soft smile on his face. Make that the second cutest thing he had ever seen. 

George turned to him, making eye contact. “Cat,” He repeated, “She probably won’t come to you, it takes her a while to warm up to people.” 

Wilbur nodded in understanding, before sitting back on the couch. “I’ll make her like me,” he said simply, leaning back into his previous position. 

“So ominous,” George giggled, bringing his legs to his chest and resting his feet on the cushions. 

The breath left Wilbur’s lungs, and his rebuttal died on his lips. George had no right to look that, that  _ soft _ . He fought the urge to pull him closer and wrap his arms around him, like the last time they had seen each other. He was just an affectionate person, that’s it. 

“Thank you for bringing my stuff here,” George spoke, breaking the comfortable silence, “I could have come to Brighton, though, you didn’t need to come all the way here.” 

Wilbur smiled, taking a second to look around the room. It was rather empty, only having the necessities and some smaller knick-knacks as decoration, “It’s not a bother, Gogs, besides I wanted to see where you lived…” He trailed off, mouth opening as he focused on one of the objects lining the shelves. 

“Did it live up to your expectations?” George joked, not noticing Wilbur’s confused expression. 

Wilbur stood up suddenly, though this time not for a cat. 

“Wilbur?”

“You… you have a shell,” Wilbur said, breathless. Long fingers picked up the shell in question, turning it over in his hands, inspecting it. It was a soft blue, not unlike the one that was sitting on his desk. Faint streaks of color spiraled up it, meeting at a point at that top. “Why do you have a shell?” 

He felt a small hand grasp his arm, and he turned. Their gazes met, Wilbur’s questioning stare melting into George’s comforting golden-brown eyes. He released a breath, and let George’s gentle fingertips take the shell from his hand, picking it up and holding it with a delicate smile. 

“It’s a shell, Wilbur,” He teased, the tone light and airy, barely above a whisper, “It’s nothing special.” He placed the shell back in Wilbur’s hand, looking up at him with what seemed to be all the love in the world. 

“It is special…” Wilbur mumbled, barely audible. 

George placed his hand on Wilbur’s arm, sliding it down from his elbow to his wrist, barely holding on. The feather-light touch sent shivers up Wilbur’s arm, through his chest, and igniting a fueling fire in his heart he didn’t know burned. 

“Are you alright, Wilbur?” 

There it was, the fuel to the flames, the caring tone, and the soft expressions, spreading it through his chest, ready to burn him alive. 

“I-I, I found something, yesterday,” Wilbur said, his fingers shaking as he raised his hand to his neck, grasping the thin cord, “I, I don’t know where it came from…” He didn’t know why he was telling George this, he didn’t care, but he needed to talk about something, anything, to distract him from the way George’s eyes made his heart beat faster and his stomach flutter. 

As soon as he started, and George was nodding along, egging him to continue, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop. 

“Don’t laugh,” He started as the pendant hit his chest. George frowned, tilting his head as he waited for him to continue. Wilbur inhaled sharply, forcing his eyes back down at the tooth, “I- I keep thinking, and I know it’s ridiculous, but I keep thinking about what you said about...” he took a deep breath, “about mermaids…” his voice was quiet, almost embarrassed.

Their eyes met once again. Wilbur was prepared, waiting for George to laugh, to make fun of him, but it never came. 

“Merfolk.” George corrected softly, making Wilbur huff out a laugh, easing his anxiety. 

“Really? You care about ‘proper terms’? Right now?” 

“Well, not all merfolk are female. You don’t want to accidentally misgender one.” He shrugged slightly. “It’s just common courtesy. Anyways, what makes you think it’s merfolk?” 

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrowed, “You talk about them so casually, like you believe in them too.” He watched George closely, noticing how his eyes widened and his mouth opened, sucking in a harsh breath. Wilbur blinked a couple of times, “You’re supposed to give me a logical explanation for this.” 

George shrugged, chewing his lip before responding, “You asked me not to laugh, I’m just being supportive.”

The hand on his wrist left, falling back to George’s side, leaving his skin feeling unpleasantly cold and empty. He fought the urge to reach out for him, to keep his soft hands touching him till the end of time. 

George cleared his throat, taking a step back, “But keep going, why do you think it’s a merfolk leaving you gifts?” 

Wilbur frowned at how George was moving away from him, going back to the couch and plopping back on the soft cushions. He set the shell back on the shelf, before going back himself, this time sitting closer to George, so close he could feel his body heat radiating off of him and onto his own skin, “No one else knows about the beach…” He trailed off, before readjusting, once again wrapping his arm over the back of the couch, barely out of reach from brushing against George. 

Nodding, George took a deep breath, leaning back into the couch. He tensed at first, feeling Wilbur’s hand on his shoulders, but relaxed just before Wilbur thought to pull it away. The contact made Wilbur’s breath stutter, and he had to take a second to remember what they were talking about. 

“Sometimes I see footprints, leading to the water,” He explained. George’s intense gaze on him was making his skin feel hot. He licked his lips, wetting them and hopefully making them cooperate with speaking, “But there’s never any that come out.” 

George hummed, gathering his attention. The sound was so pretty, though Wilbur found that everything about George was pretty, “No one else knows about the beach, and yet there have been two separate occasions where there’s been something there waiting for me. Like a gift.” 

Taking a long breath, he closed his eyes, replaying the day before, “Then yesterday, something else was there too.” He bit his lip, slowly opening his eyes and facing George, tilting his body so their legs were pressed against each other, making him shiver, “I saw something, in the water… I think they were eyes.” 

“Eyes?” George asked patiently, almost like he believed Wilbur. It made him smile, knowing that no matter how far fetched this was, George was still willing to hear what he had to say. 

“Eyes,” He said, “I could only see them a little bit since they were in the water, but I swear that they were eyes,” Wilbur continued, taking a moment to collect his breath, “They looked… human. Well, one of them.” 

George inhaled sharply, and Wilbur swore he could almost feel his muscles tensing against his skin, “One of them?”

Wilbur nodded, “The other was, it was dark. Black filled the white of the eye like ink, and the iris was a vibrant blue, that stood out of the water. It almost looked like it was glowing...” 

“It was…” He continued, trailing off and eyes fading as he recalled the details of the eye, “Incredible.” 

When he looked back to George they both seemed out of breath, despite Wilbur being the one to tell the story. 

“Wow,” George said simply, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips. The action caught Wilbur's attention, drawing his gaze to the smooth, pink skin.

“Yeah…” Wilbur agreed, barely audible as his breath was still taken, practically suffocating from the tension that surrounded them. At any second, with just one wrong move, it could all come crashing down.

Without thinking, Wilbur raised a hand to George's cheek, feeling the burning of his skin beneath his fingertips, “Do you believe me?” 

George made eye contact, then nodded, slowly and with trepidation. He cleared his throat, then spoke, “I believe you.” 

The way his tone sounded, so sure, so confident in Wilbur, yet still so soft made him swoon. He had never met someone who was willing to back him up so hard, despite how outlandish the story seemed. 

Time blurred around them as Wilbur looked into George's eyes, his gentle palm still stroking his cheek. Wilbur swore he could see deep into George’s soul, no matter how cringey and cliche the thought was. 

He felt as if they were the only two people in the world as they sat together on the small couch. George leaned into his palm, letting out a low, content sigh. Wilbur didn't bother fighting the urge this time, moving his arms so he could wrap around George’s chest and pull him closer, keeping eye contact the entire time. 

“Th-Thank you.” Wilbur mumbled, leaning his forehead against George's, “For believing me.” 

He heard George inhale sharply, and felt the exhale against his own lips. They were so close, yet so far.

“Of course, Wilbur,” George replied, fondness dripping from his voice, coating it like honey. Wilbur’s eyes flicked down to George's lips, making his breath hitch. They looked so soft, so plump… so perfect. 

His heart was hammering in his chest, the dramatic beating pounding in his ears. Wilbur was sure that George had to hear it too. 

All rational thoughts left his head as he watched George's own eyes flicker to his own lips, and he inhaled sharply. 

Before Wilbur could think about leaning in and just  _ maybe _ closing the gap between them, he felt something brush by his ankle, making him shoot back on the couch and a shriek of surprise escape his throat.

Both George and Wilbur’s eyes were wide, and their chests heaved, attempting to catch their breath. Wilbur looked at the floor, glaring at George's cat who was now purring while rubbing against her owner's leg. 

Wilbur was almost afraid to look back up at George, but he couldn't help himself. And when he did, he was stricken by the sight. 

George's eyes were closed, his cheeks painted with an array of warm colors, reminding Wilbur of sunsets and wildfires. He could see the dusting of freckles that littered his cheeks and crossed over the bridge of his nose, a few stray marks sticking out on his temples. But the thing that Wilbur focused on, was his lips.

They were parted, ever so slightly, drawing in and pushing out his heavy breaths. They were pink, the shade of strawberries. Wilbur wondered if they tasted like them, too. 

He shook his head, leaning back on the couch, away from George, the space giving him room to breathe, but the same feeling making him feel unbearably cold. 

After clearing his throat, he spoke, “Why don't we, uh, order some lunch or something?” He said. He didn't really have an appetite, his spike of adrenaline washing it away, but he needed something to take his mind off of the man sitting next to him. 

George quickly nodded, “Yeah, yeah good idea,” He agreed, before practically scrambling off of the couch with the excuse of grabbing some takeout menus. 

Only after he left the room did Wilbur truly let himself breathe, and he looked down at the cat, who laid next to the foot of the coffee table. 

“You're evil.” 

* * *

They ate in awkward silence, attempting to make small talk but the conversation never stuck. Wilbur couldn't help but notice George sitting on a chair this time, far away from him who had remained on the sofa. 

It made his stomach twist and his heart race. Did he go too far earlier? He watched George closely, his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. He looked deep in thought, eyebrows furrowed and lips pulled into a frown. 

Wilbur readjusted, the guilt in his chest doubling when George tensed at the action. That's when Wilbur put it together, he made George uncomfortable. 

The realization hit him like a truck, physically paining him, the backs of his eyes began to pound and the knots in his stomach increased. He blinked away his unshed tears, forcing his lips into a straight line.

He made George uncomfortable.

“I, Uh- I think I should get going,” Wilbur said, wincing at how pathetic his voice sounded, and standing up, “I have a video to edit.” 

George stood from the chair, wiping at the non-existent crumbs on his lap, “Oh, okay.” 

No matter how hard Wilbur tried, he couldn't get a read on George. His face was expressionless, numb, apathetic even. His walls were back in place like he had never let Wilbur in the first place. It felt like a knife, stabbing through his heart and twisting with no remorse. 

They walked to the front door silently, stopping momentarily before Wilbur and George both reached for the handle at the same time, before recoiling suddenly. 

“I, um… yeah,” Wilbur mumbled, once again reaching for the door. George stayed silent, keeping his hand stationed by his side.

“Goodbye, George.” 

Still, he stayed silent, offering him an obviously fake smile before shutting the door behind him. 

As soon as the door was shut, George fell against the wall, his back sliding down the surface until he was on the floor, head in his hands. 

_ George.  _

Wilbur never called him George. He hated him. 

He felt the beginnings of sobs in his chest, his mind involuntary replaying everything that went wrong. Wilbur had to be so freaked out by him, he couldn't wait to leave. 

Warm tears began spilling down his cheeks, making his cheeks itch and burn. He really had screwed up. He should have hidden the shell, he should have laughed when Wilbur brought up merfolk, but he didn't. 

He knew better, too. That's what hurt so bad. But the small, dumb, love-stricken part of him wanted Wilbur to know. And now, he did. 

He must have figured it out, from the nonchalant way he spoke of merfolk or the bag on the beach, and as soon as he did he couldn't wait to leave.

George freaked him out. That was the only explanation. 

With shaky limbs, he clambered his way off of the floor, wiping his eyes and grabbing his phone. He shot off a quick text to Dream, informing him how awful the day had turned, before putting it on do not disturb and throwing it on the couch. 

He would deal with it tomorrow, now, he needed a bath. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> georgebur fans come get y'alls juice


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If you aren't freaked out by this,” George started, waving his hands over his body with a roll of his eyes, “Why did you leave my apartment so suddenly yesterday?” 
> 
> Wilbur sighed, rubbing his forehead, “You thought that's why I left?” 
> 
> George shrugged, though he refused to make eye contact. 
> 
> “I left because I thought I made you uncomfortable, George.” Wilbur said earnestly, preparing himself to bare everything to the other man “I almost kissed you on the couch, and when you were acting skittish afterward, I thought I crossed a line.”
> 
> George's eyes shot open, and a deep blush raised from his neck to his cheeks, “You were going to kiss me?” 
> 
> “I was.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi, guess what?
> 
> you're right! i'ts time for me to tell you to check out our tumblrs <3  
> @firefly & @slushiesforcar
> 
> ... and you might as well check out our other works while you're here ;)

Wilbur woke up well after the sun, squinting at the glaring sunlight. He slowly crawled out of bed, throwing the covers haphazardly onto the mattress. 

He refused to look into the mirror as he walked into the bathroom, he didn't need to see his reflection to know how awful he looked, he felt the dried tears on his cheeks. 

He turned on his sink, splashing cold water on his face as he forced himself to breathe. He hadn't even kissed George, so why did this hurt so bad? 

Picking up his phone, he frowned. He had tons of notifications, but none from George. He couldn't sleep last night, eventually caving and sending George an apology, letting him know he didn't mean to make him uncomfortable and that he would keep his distance. 

Maybe that's what this was, George giving him the signal to leave him alone. If that's what he wanted, Wilbur would respect it, no matter how much it hurt. 

He took a deep breath, leaning against the counter. There was no way he was going to be able to focus on work today, maybe he should go for a walk, get some fresh air. 

Walking down the path, Wilbur thought about how much had changed in the past few months. He remembered the first time he showed George the beach, how perfect he felt in his arms. He would do anything to go back to that day.

He thought about the night on the couch, George's gentle breathing that tickled his skin, and how he could feel the rise and fall of his chest. In reality, he should have seen this coming. 

His stomach fluttered thinking of the smaller things, the things he hadn't noticed about anyone else. The way George's eyes widened whenever he saw something interesting, or the way he argued passionately about orange juice versus apple. 

He had never felt this way before. 

Tears broke through, dripping down his cheeks and falling off his chin. He loved George, and now he hated him. He was so stupid, of course, George didn't like him, he was the most simped over man on the internet, he had plenty of other options.

As soon as he stepped off the path, he raised his eyes, his pupils widening when he realized he wasn't alone on the beach.

“George?” He asked, taking a step forward.

George was sitting in the tide pool, facing away from the path, but when he heard Wilbur’s voice, he turned sharply to him, his mouth falling open in surprise. 

Before he could say anything else, George dove into the water, causing Wilbur to gasp. It almost looked as if George's legs were blue, shiny almost. But there was no way. 

He ran towards the water, watching as the faint image of George going deeper and deeper.

Wilbur didn't have time to think, his adrenaline kicked into overdrive as he leaped into the water. George was going too deep, he was going to drown. Wilbur needed to protect him. His fear of losing George took over, blocking out his self-preservation. He didn't care that George probably didn't like him, he needed to make sure he was okay. 

George turned, noticing Wilbur was behind him, then diving even deeper, seemingly desperate to try to get away from him. 

His skin… seemed to be shifting, changing under the water. It caught Wilbur’s eye. George's legs almost seemed to fuse, and his skin was tinted an even more vibrant blue. What was going on?

His lungs burned, and his eyes stung, the burning saltwater making him struggle to keep them open. But George was still going deeper, and Wilbur couldn't let him get hurt, no matter what it took. Darkness began to crowd his vision, the edges of his sight spinning, sending sharp pains through his temples. His heart was racing, both with the physical excursion and fear.

George turned around again, shocked when he saw Wilbur was still behind him. Wilbur noticed something else this time, his ears. 

They had something behind them, floating and flickering behind the now pointed cartilage. More of George's skin was blue, but Wilbur chalked it to the tint of the ocean and the lack of oxygen reaching his brain. 

That's when the gravity of the situation finally hit him. He looked up, stilling momentarily. There was a good distance to the surface, and he was already losing consciousness. 

Bubbles of his remaining air left his nose as he swam upwards, the blackness of his vision increasing with each passing moment. His lungs felt like they were about to give out, burning and spasming in his chest. 

He tried with all of his might to continue upwards, but his limbs gave out. His tired muscles giving up completely, leaving him floating mercilessly in the deep blue sea. 

Distantly, he could feel arms wrap underneath his own, dragging him up towards the surface. The sunshine steadily grew brighter and brighter above him. In a last-ditch effort to stay awake, he tried to focus on the warm rays that cut through the water.

His tired head fell, the new angle making his adrenaline spike and giving him just a second more to fight the impending darkness. Hooked underneath his own arms were a pair of webbed hands, sharp claws digging into his skin. 

_ Merfolk _ .

He smiled faintly before he lost his battle against unconsciousness and fell limp against the being. His mouth opened slightly as his natural instincts died down, allowing water to fill his lungs. 

George gasped when he felt Wilbur go limp, crying out for the other man. He needed him to wake up, he needed him to be okay. He cursed himself for being so stupid, of course, Wilbur was going to follow him into the water, that's just who he was. 

He looked up, they were almost to the surface, just a couple more feet. They could make it. They had to make it. 

“C’mon, Wilbur, just hold on for me, we’re almost there,” He sobbed, pushing up with his tail with as much power as he could muster, “We’re almost there.” 

After another long few seconds, which passed like hours, they breached the surface. 

George laid Wilbur on the shallow beach, before scrambling to where his phone was hidden. His tail made it difficult to cross the beach, making him resort to pulling himself painfully slow across the rocky shore, the sharp rocks digging into his arms and stomach. But it didn’t bother him, he had far more important things to worry about. 

His heart raced as he grabbed his phone, having to pick it up again when it slid out of his slick hands. He cursed under his breath when he picked it back up, the screen not picking up his wet fingertips. He blew on both his hands and the screen, before pulling himself back to Wilbur. He didn’t know what to do, he needed help,  _ now _ .   


He eventually got it open, his sharp nails scrambling against the glass screen. He remembered something he had seen a long time ago, that holding down the power button sent out an emergency signal to EMS, and he did that, not sure if he would be able to dial a number or talk on the phone. 

Remembering the basics of CPR, from a summer camp his mom had made him go to when he was a child, he leaned over Wilbur’s mouth, listening and hoping to feel his breath against his face. When he didn’t feel or hear any breathing, he cried out, a fresh batch of tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“C’mon, Wilbur,” He sobbed, holding his webbed fingers to Wilbur’s neck, desperately feeling for a pulse. Nothing. He felt like he was going to throw up.

He interlocked his hands as best as he could, placing them two inches down on his chest, just like he had been taught all those years ago. The sound of ribs fracturing under his hands made him wince. He started compressions, the entire time sobs racking his chest. 

100 beats per minute, he could do that. 

He kept pumping, frantic. He prayed that Wilbur would wake up, and everything would be okay. After another long minute of compressions and breaths, George faintly heard the sound of sirens approaching. He looked down at his still very transformed body and groaned, he couldn’t let anyone see him like this. 

Continuing on, he waited till he could see the dim lights of sirens increasing over the hill with the path. He heard a strangled choking sound come from the man beneath him, nearly collapsed in relief as water spilled from his mouth. 

Wilbur continued coughing, his pale hands grasping his chest and his eyes opening wide. George looked between him and the top of the path, where he knew at any second there would be medical services rushing down from. 

When Wilbur came to, he groaned, slowly raising a tired hand above his eyes to block the glaring sunlight. When his eyes finally adjusted, the shock of what he saw made him gasp and cough even harder. 

Kneeling above him was the creature that he had seen, both as the eyes he had seen the last time he was on the beach, and as the one that had pulled him out of the water. As his vision got clearer, that's when he realized. 

The gentle slope of its jaw, the perfect lips, everything. It was George. He looked into George's eyes, his breath once again taken as he took it in. His left eye was normal, golden-brown, wide in concern. His right, however, was the opposite, just like he had seen before. The whites of the eye were black like it had been filled with ink. The once warm irises were a striking, vibrant blue, almost as if it was glowing. Blue scales rimmed his face, tracing down his neck and covering his shoulders, forming mesmerizing patterns on his skin. 

George was talking, but he didn't hear, his attention focusing on his mouth this time. As he spoke, Wilbur realized George's teeth resembled that of a shark, pointed and imposing. 

George looked sharply towards the path, then back to Wilbur, before diving back into the water. 

Wilbur groaned once again, breathing heavily. Everything hurt, his head pounded, his lungs burned, and his ribs screamed in agony. He wanted to sleep all of it away, but right as he closed his eyes, many different pairs of hands and voices surrounded him, lifting him.

He tried to focus on what they were saying, but the speech sounded garbled and fuzzy. He kept replaying everything that happened, the shell, the necklace, how George was seemingly terrified of the water. It all made sense now.

The ride to the hospital went by in a blur, Wilbur drifting in and out of consciousness the whole time. The paramedics tried to ask him questions, but Wilbur didn't answer. How could he? If they heard the truth, that he was chasing after his crush who happened to be a mermaid, accidentally going too far in the process… they would put him in the psych ward. 

He felt himself slip back into the comforting hold of sleep, his brain too exhausted to think anymore. 

* * *

The next time he woke up, he felt a lot better, still in massive amounts of pain, but his head felt a lot less foggy. Something was tickling his nose, and he reached up, frowning when he felt an oxygen tube hooked around him. 

A dull pain sounded through his chest, but significantly less than before. The doctors gave him pain meds, he assumed. 

He startled when someone knocked at his door, before opening it. A nurse walked in, smiling when he saw Wilbur was awake. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” The nurse asked, walking to the bed and watching the various machines, charting them down. 

“Sore,” Wilbur answered simply, his voice raspy and his throat dry. Just responding to the question made his throat hurt. 

The nurse chuckled, setting down his paper before typing away at the tablet in his hand, “Are you feeling up for a visitor?” 

Wilbur’s eyebrow raised, there was no way his family was already there, “Who?” 

Humming, the nurse pulled out a note from his coat, reading it carefully, “Someone by the name of George?” 

Wilbur practically jumped when he heard George's name, his heart rate spiking and his cracked lips splitting, “Yes, please, uh whenever you can, send him in.” 

The nurse smiled at his enthusiasm, before stepping out of the room, leaving Wilbur anxiously waiting alone in his hospital bed. He tapped on the side of the bed, watching the door with an eagle eye. 

What was he going to say? So much had happened in the past 24 hours, he was still reeling from what happened at George's place the day before, let alone what happened on the beach. 

Not long after the nurse left did another series of knocks sound at the door, this time gentle, timid almost. 

“Come in!” Wilbur called, before breaking into another coughing fit, breathing deeply to try to catch his breath. His lungs burned, and his ribs ached, but as soon as George walked in the room, all pain was forgotten. 

George slowly crept forward, his eyes wide and puffy, like he was scared that moving too close to Wilbur would hurt him. 

Wilbur offered him a smile, which seemed to relax him a little bit further, but he still only inched forward. 

“I-Uh, I think we should talk about a couple of things,” George said, wiping his eyes, “But first, Wilbur, oh my god I'm so sorry.” 

Frowning, Wilbur sat up in his bed, “For what?” 

He heard George sniffle, and it hurt him more than his ribs, “Th-this is all my fault, I almost got you killed!” George cried, crossing his arms over his chest, “And now, now you know and you probably think I'm disgusting!” 

Wilbur’s eyes softened, and he reached out for him, “Oh, Gogy, come here.”

George practically barreled into his chest, lightening his hold only when Wilbur winced. Wilbur rubbed his back, resting his head on top of George's. 

“This wasn't your fault, George.” Wilbur whispered, using his real name to make sure he knew he was serious, clutching onto him tighter when he felt George shaking, “I chose to go after you.” 

George slowly raised his head, pulling away from Wilbur ever so slightly, “You saw.” 

Smiling, Wilbur raised a gentle hand to caress his cheek, his soft fingertips padding across the smooth skin, “I did.”

A moment of silence flowed between them, locked into each other's eyes, “It's not disgusting, it's incredible.” Wilbur said genuinely, never breaking eye contact. “ _ you’re  _ incredible.”

George sniffled, looking to the ground, his hands fidgeted with something Wilbur hadn't noticed yet, making his eyebrows raise. 

Raising the object in one hand, George grabbed Wilbur’s hand with his other, forcing it open and placing it on his palm.

Raising it up, Wilbur smiled. In his hand was a small, tan shell, covered in raised, white dots. 

“You brought me a shell,” Wilbur said, not bothering to fight the fondness in his tone. 

“I- I uh, I had to wait to dry off before I could come here, I found it on the beach, and I, I just had to grab it,” George explained, biting his lip and fidgeting with his shirt until Wilbur grabbed his hands, forcing them to remain still.

“Listen I-” 

“We should-”

They both chuckled before Wilbur motioned for George to speak, “You go.” 

“If you aren't freaked out, by  _ this _ ,” George started, waving his hands over his body with a roll of his eyes, “Why did you leave my apartment so suddenly yesterday?” 

Wilbur sighed, rubbing his forehead, “You thought that was why I left?” 

George shrugged, though he refused to make eye contact. 

“I left because I thought I made you uncomfortable, George.” Wilbur said honestly, preparing himself to bare everything to him, “I almost kissed you on the couch, and when you were acting skittish afterward, I thought I crossed a line.”

George's eyes shot open, and a deep blush raised from his neck to his cheeks, “You were going to kiss me?” 

“I was.”

George chewed on his lip, his eyebrows furrowed. Wilbur’s stomach twisted, preparing for rejection. 

After a moment, George finally spoke, “You don't know everything about me, how do you know you want me?” 

Wilbur gave him a small, genuine smile, “I want to know, show me.” 

* * *

“Are you sure you want to do this?” George asked, rubbing his palms on his jeans and looking up at Wilbur with worry, “What if it's too much for you?” 

Several weeks had passed since the event at the beach, and George had spent nearly every free moment by his side. Whether it was out of guilt or a genuine desire to see him, Wilbur didn’t care. He was just happy to be close to the other.

Wilbur placed a comforting hand on George's back, rubbing circles onto the vast expanse of skin, “It's not going to be too much, I promise.”

George rolled his eyes and huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “You can't  _ promise  _ that, Wilbur.”

Chuckling, Wilbur wrapped his arms around George, holding him close to his chest, “Yes I can, I've seen it before, I'm still here.” George sighed in his arms, before stepping back and into the water. 

Wilbur smiled brightly, close to bouncing on the balls of his feet with how excited he was to see George in his fully transformed state, up close and personal.

George was taking his time, letting the water slowly creep up his legs and making Wilbur increasingly impatient. 

“Gogyyy,” Wilbur whined, “Hurry up.” 

Shushing him, George took another step forward, “Don't rush me, I’m taking my time,” He said, turning around to face Wilbur and walking further backward. 

He was up to his knees at this point, looking down into the water Wilbur could see the beginnings of his skin begin to change. 

“Does it hurt?” Wilbur asked, walking closer. He felt the cool water splash around his ankles and wondered if it felt the same way for George.

George shrugged, taking another step back, “It can if I get wet from the rain, or something small. The scales have a hard time pushing through. But when I'm swimming or completely wet I barely notice.” 

Wilbur hummed, remembering the blood behind his ears when they got caught in the rain. 

“So it happens every time you get wet?” Wilbur replied, biting his lip, “That has to get annoying.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” George said, the water now above his hips. Wilbur could see his legs begin to fuse, his excitement nearly doubling at the sight, “I've gotten used to avoiding the water, though.” He continued, sticking his hands in the water. 

Taking a step forward, Wilbur spoke, “Who all knows about this?” 

“Ponk’s known the longest, he's one too,” George explained, motioning Wilbur to come further into the water. Wilbur squinted, he had no idea there was one merfolk on the Dream SMP, let alone two, “Then Dream, though he found out not that long ago,” Wilbur raised his eyebrows, surprised George hadn't told him a long time ago, “And now, you.” 

George stayed still, waiting for Wilbur to catch up to him. The water was significantly lower on Wilbur than it was on George, making him laugh, “Even in mermaid form you're tiny, George.” 

“Merfolk.” George corrected, rolling his eyes but a large smile tugging at his lips, “And I’m not tiny, you're just… freakishly tall.” 

Wilbur grabbed George's hands, bringing them out of the water and admiring the intricate webbing and scales. He made eye contact with George, pulling one hand to his lips and placing a feather-light kiss on his knuckles, instantly making him blush.

“You're such an idiot,” George replied breathlessly, his eyes wide, and his skin flushed, reminding Wilbur of the main thing he wanted to see. 

He lowered their hands, before moving slightly closer, keeping eye contact the entire time, “When are you going completely under?” Wilbur asked, impatiently waiting to see the rest. 

“Completely?” George asked incredulously, “This isn't enough?” He motioned to the hands and his tail, which was swishing side to side to keep him afloat. 

Shaking his head, Wilbur cupped a little bit of water in his hand, before pouring it over George's head, only hitting his ear when George jerked away.

Wilbur pouted, “I want to see your eyes,” He whined, splashing more water onto George, it only landing on his chest. 

“Wilbur- No! Stop!” George giggled, trying to swim away, but before he could, Wilbur hooked his arms around his waist, trapping him, “You don't want to see my eyes, they're freaky.” 

Clicking his tongue, Wilbur tightened his grip on George, tilting back towards the water, “Oh, but I do, Gogs.” 

He quickly dunked George in the water, waiting a couple of seconds to bring him back up. 

“You're so dumb,” George breathed, wiping the excess water dripping from his face when Wilbur brought him back up, “Don't say I didn't warn you.” 

Wilbur hooked his arms under George's back and tail, reminding him of the first time they were at the beach. It seemed like a lifetime ago. 

“What are you doing?” George asked, not bothering to fight and try to get out of Wilbur’s hold, he knew it was pointless. 

“Shh.” Wilbur hushed, stepping towards the beach before laying George in the shallow water, deep enough to keep him wet, but shallow enough that he didn't have to keep swimming. 

George propped himself on his elbows, watching as Wilbur sat down next to him, lightly grasping his jaw and making eye contact. 

Wilbur’s breath was taken away when he looked into George's right eye, the whites filling with swirls of black, almost like he was watching a painting come together in real-time. The iris slowly shifted too, looking as if it was almost glowing, iridescent. It was incredible.

After a few moments of silence, George looked away and cleared his throat, “I told you it was freaky.” His voice was muffled and distorted, as though he were speaking underwater. It was the same voice that had been heard in his bathroom all those weeks ago. 

Frowning, Wilbur pulled George closer to him, his hand returning to his jaw and making him look back at him, “It's not  _ freaky _ , Gogy. It's amazing.  _ You're _ amazing.” 

His hand raised to George's temple, his gaze flickering to his lips, before looking back into his eyes. 

“Can I kiss you?” Wilbur whispered, waiting for George's gentle nod to continue, pulling him closer. 

Webbed fingers grabbed his shoulder, the claws sending pinpricks of pain through his arm, but he didn't pull away. 

When they finally made contact, it was perfect. Wilbur’s lips were chapped, but George didn't seem to mind, his own lips tasting like the seawater surrounding them and his teeth sharpened, the sharp points pricking his lips and drawing the smallest amounts of blood. He didn’t mind. Though George seemed to notice and became more careful. It was slow, it was sweet, it was melting them into something so uniquely them, making Wilbur want to stay there forever. 

Wilburs hand on George's temple moved gently behind his ear, jumping slightly when something fluttered beneath his hand. Right, George had ear fins. 

Eventually, they pulled apart, both men flushed and panting to catch their breaths. Wilbur rested his forehead against George's, relishing the soft breath against his skin.

“Go on a date with me,” Wilbur whispered, pressing feather-light kisses on the tip of George's nose, up to between his eyes, “A real one this time, no Twitter, no cameras, just you and me.”

“Only if you pay.” George joked, making them both smile as they remembered their conversation before the cafe.

“Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> georgebur fans i love you


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Gogyy-” He whined, attempting to feign hurt, but it didn’t last long as he found himself joining in with George’s laughter, he couldn’t help himself, George’s smile was just unnervingly contagious, “You’re going to pay for that,” He threatened, kicking off of the rocks and towards his boyfriend. 
> 
> George shrieked, his laugh echoing off the cave walls as he attempted to dodge Wilbur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey everyone! you know the drill  
> Tumblr's @FireFly464 & @SlushiesForCar   
> follow us if you're cool

“Are you nervous?” George asked, watching Wilbur fumble with the straps of his flippers while he stood in the shallow water, waiting impatiently for his boyfriend to put on his equipment. 

A month had passed since Wilbur kissed George, and he had never been happier. There was hardly a weekend they didn't spend together, either finding new places to eat, spending time on the beach, or just enjoying each other's company. 

It didn't take long for Wilbur to get certified for diving and get the gear, desperately wanting to be able to be with George in his element. 

Wilbur looked up at George, squinting from the sunlight and offering him a bright smile, “Excited.”

George returned his smile, before handing him his goggles, Wilbur accepted them, hooking them over his forehead before fiddling with the nozzles of the small oxygen tank. It wasn't meant for long, deep-sea dives, but it would last him long enough to spend a good amount of time with his boyfriend.

“There are so many things I want to show you,” George said, bouncing on the balls of his feet, fiddling with his hands, “I could show you where I found the shell, or- or I know! There's this little tunnel system that leads to a cool underwater cave.” 

Watching George ramble, Wilbur’s heart melted, he absolutely adored when George got excited. His eyes always lit up, he bounced his foot, and he talked far faster than usual, it was incredibly endearing.

“We have time, Gogs,” Wilbur reminded, hooking the oxygen tank over his shoulders and maneuvering deeper into the water, “If we run out of time we'll just come back.”

George nodded, following Wilbur deeper into the sea, “Are you sure you know what you're doing?” He asked, motioning to all of the gear, “That looks complicated.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, but his fond smile revealed his lack of hostility, “Yes, I know what I'm doing.” George bit his lip, his hands fidgeting by his side while he stared at the equipment. That's when Wilbur realized, buried beneath George's excitement was flashes of worry. 

He reached for George, grabbing his hand and lightly kissing the back of it, “I’m okay,” he enunciated, “I'm going to be okay, Gogy, I promise.” 

Nodding, George took a deep breath, before glaring at Wilbur, “If you drown again, I'll kill you.”

Wilbur laughed, before going deeper, the water level now up to his chest. Looking at George, he noticed how it was up to his neck, and bit back the urge to call him tiny again, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“So the mouth of the cave system is down shore a little bit,” George explained, “The tunnel is plenty big, we won't have a problem getting through.”

“Where does it lead?” Wilbur asked, slipping the goggles over his ear and making sure he had a seal, placing the oxygen tube in his mouth. 

George only giggled, slowly pulling him beneath the water, “You'll see, just follow me.” He said, then they went under. 

He took a second to make sure his airflow was good, and his seal tight, before allowing himself to take it all in. 

Now that he wasn't chasing after George, he could really absorb how beautiful it was beneath the water. George was swimming circles around him, his movements smooth and graceful. It was enchanting. 

While he descended further, his eyes widened. There was an impressive reef, surrounded by what he was sure was a small school of mackerel. 

“Follow me,” George said, his voice sounding astutely deeper in the deep water. Unlike when they were on land, the strange distortion of his voice sounded natural under the waves. It made it so that his voice was still audible, even as the sounds of rushing water filled his ears. 

Wilbur signed “Okay,” As the both of them learned basic sign language and diving signals for communication in the water. 

George swam past the reef, paying no mind to the sea life, Wilbur followed, slowly, taking it all in. 

The sun shone through the water, illuminating them as they swam. Wilbur could see how George felt free under the water, it was like as soon as he dipped beneath the waves, his worries got left behind. 

After a short minute of swimming, George motioned to a crevice in the rocks, which led to a small hole. Completely unnoticeable if you didn't know it was there.

George slid in before Wilbur, the latter feeling slightly claustrophobic as he looked into the dark tunnel. He checked all of his gear before entering, praying that George knew where he was going.

He was right, the tunnel was small, but it was still big enough Wilbur could swim through with all of his gear. He wondered what kind of sea life filled the dark tunnel, but quickly shook the thought from his mind. He didn't want to know.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, slight curves and dips making Wilbur have to weave his way through, but after a long couple of minutes, the rock finally opened up around him, exposing him to the large cavern that George described. 

Sunlight beamed through cracks in the rock ceiling, unnoticeable from the ground above but illuminating the cave. Wilbur wondered how many caves and tunnel systems were all around them, waiting to be discovered. 

He swam higher, following George, before eventually getting above the water. He slid off the mask, shaking the excess water from his face and hair, his eyes wide as he scanned the impressive cavern. Vines grew down the side of the rock, and there was a dripping coming from… somewhere, but he put it out of his mind when George swam closer to him, encasing his hands in his own. 

“Come here,” George said, pulling him further towards a section of the cave that was filled with large, smooth rock, offering him a place to sit and rest. He slowly climbed up, sitting off the side and keeping his calves and feet in the water. 

Wilbur couldn't help but look around the place in awe, he thought places like this only existed in tropical climates as he would see on the nature channel, he never thought one would ever be this close. He wondered where his house was in relation to the cave. He stared at the cracks in the ceiling, trying and failing to grasp where he was. 

“It’s cool right?” George asked. Wilbur tilted his head back down, making eye contact with his boyfriend, who was smiling brightly, resting his elbows on the rock next to him, “I found it accidentally one of the first times I swam in the area, now it’s my favorite place to come, especially when I need to think.” A beat of silence passed between them, “It can be kind of creepy though.” 

Wilbur chuckled, grabbing George’s hands and pulling him so he was leaning on his legs. He bent down, lightly kissing George’s forehead, “It’s nice,” He whispered, “I had no idea this was here.” 

George nodded, rubbing circles onto the back of Wilbur’s hands, careful as to not scratch him, “Yeah, the mouth of the tunnel is pretty hidden, I don’t think anyone has found it but me,” He explained, “And well, now you.” 

“Our little secret,” Wilbur mumbled, leaning down slowly towards George, his tongue jutting out to wet his lips out of habit. 

George hummed, eyes flicking down to Wilbur’s lips, “Our little secret.” 

Before Wilbur could make contact, George’s hands left his own, wrapping around his waist and pulling. Wilbur yelped, before falling into the water, the chill liquid splashing around them. 

Wilbur came back up above the water, pouting at George, who was laughing, loudly. 

“Gogyy-” He whined, attempting to feign hurt, but it didn’t last long as he found himself joining in with George’s laughter, he couldn’t help himself, George’s smile was just unnervingly contagious, “You’re going to pay for that,” He threatened, kicking off of the rocks and towards his boyfriend. 

George shrieked, his laugh echoing off the cave walls as he attempted to dodge Wilbur. He wondered if anyone was above the cave and if they could hear them. 

George sunk beneath the water, the low lighting making only a vague shadow visible. Wilbur scanned the water around him, a large smile tugging the corners of his lips. Occasionally he felt the brush of a tail grace his leg, or a fin touch his back, and he fought his instincts to jump. His pride would never heal from that. 

Looking around the cave, he realized George was right, even though he wasn’t actually alone, when the cavern was quiet and seemingly empty, it was incredibly unnerving. 

Another brush of a tail slid across his leg, and this time, he couldn’t keep himself from jumping. He stared down into the water, smirking. George was circling him, like a shark. He reached down suddenly, trying to wrap his arms around George, but the slick scales made it nearly impossible. 

He dove into the water, almost laughing when he saw George’s shocked expression, trying to turn and swim away. But Wilbur didn’t let him. He finally caught him, one arm around his waist, one around his shoulders. 

They made eye contact, both smiling beneath the water. Wilbur had never seen anything prettier than George right then, his hair floating, his skin and scales illuminated from the low light shining through the waves, and his sharp teeth pulled into a grin. It should have been imposing, but Wilbur found it entrancing. 

Pulling George closer, Wilbur moved one hand to the back of his neck, this time not even flinching when he felt George’s ear fin tickle his fingers. 

George didn’t squirm away this time, his own hands wrapping around Wilbur’s neck and pulling him close, stopping when they were mere centimeters apart.

Wilbur was the one to break the distance, pressing his lips to George’s. Like the ear fins and the sharp teeth, the constant taste of seawater was another thing Wilbur had quickly gotten used to, the saltwater no longer making his nose curl like it used to. 

Wilbur tightened his grip on George, before kicking his legs, raising them above the water. They eventually parted, Wilbur needing to catch his breath. 

They stayed like that, in each other's arms, in the middle of the cavern, sucked into each other’s gaze. Wilbur felt like they were the only two in the world, and he knew right then he never wanted to leave George’s side. 

“George-” Wilbur whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. His heart raced, but he knew what he was feeling needed to be said. That feeling being the overwhelming, all-consuming, love for the man in his arms. He opened his eyes, noticing how George perked up at the use of his real name, his eyes wide and worried. Wilbur knew he was overthinking, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss his worries away, but still, he persisted, “George, I, uh...:”

“Get on with it,” George interrupted, making Wilbur huff out a laugh. He appreciated how good George was at lightening the mood, “I don’t have all day.” 

He raised a hand to George’s jaw, making sure he saw how genuine Wilbur was being. He hoped that through their eyes, George would be able to see just how much Wilbur needed him. 

Wilbur took a deep breath, his voice barely audible, “I love you, George.” 

George’s eyes widened, and for a moment, Wilbur was worried that he had gone too far, or too fast. But then, webbed hands were back around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 

When their lips connected, it was like they were never apart, lips moving together like a perfect symphony, a composition that Beethoven could only dream of. Wilbur knew right then that George  _ did _ feel the same burning love, and his heart almost burst. 

Pulling away, George looked back into Wilbur’s eyes, “I love you too, Wilbur.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope everyone enjoyed the story, we had a lot of fun writing it
> 
> <3   
> Georgebur fans, ily

**Author's Note:**

> For all the starving Georgebur shippers out there <3  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated!


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